His Helping Hand
by lifewithdaleks
Summary: AU- When the Doctor meets Clara Oswald in his bookshop he finds himself drawn to her, and the story that surrounds her. In turn, she helps pull him out of his shell, and falls for him in the process.
1. Chapter 1

_Chapter 1- Out of Your League_

The Doctor thoroughly enjoyed being eccentric.

The strange looks people would give him as he inhaled the scent of a first edition 'Jane Eyre' were absolutely priceless. More than once, he'd been lying in his Blue Volkswagen Microbus, reading away in his usual bow tie, suspenders, and button up, when a curious person would peek in and withdraw a second later with their thoughts questioning how a person could be so peculiar.

On rare instances such as this one though, he regretted being so strange.

It had been a mistake to assume that he could climb a bookshelf to the top and come down with the book his customer needed, unscathed.

The shop had been empty all day, with his three assistants off collecting new merchandise for his shop at a book convention in France for a week. So when young Jethro Cane came in looking for a science fiction novel called 'Midnight', the Doctor was more than eager to help.

He found that he'd vastly overestimated himself when the shelf he was clinging onto dangerously tilted forward.

He jumped off just in time for the shelf to move back to its proper place against the wall.

The air left his lungs in the form of a groan as he landed on his back. His vision blurred, and he turned onto his side. A few books toppled onto him with almost comedic timing, bringing tears of pain to his eyes.

He tried not to be too irritated by the arrogant snickering of the teenager he'd been trying to help only a few seconds ago.

He pulled himself to his feet, and noticed the boy hastily thrusting his cell phone into his pocket.

The Doctor scowled, red to his roots, and shoved a book into the boy's arms, sending the skinny teenager back a step.

He glanced around, hoping that nobody had seen his embarrassing fall.

A movement from outside the bookshop caught his attention.

A petite young brunette walked by the large shop window, hands behind her back, lugging something that he couldn't see.

The soft tinkling of the bell on the door sounded, and he watched her step into the shop pulling a small rolling cart that was stacked high with papers.

She looked around, her eyes falling onto a small table in the corner of the shop, and promptly sat down on one of the wooden chairs.

Almost immediately, she reached into her cart and pulled out an armful of papers.

She extracted a red pen, uncapped it with her mouth, and got to work.

"Forget it, Doctor," Jethro said, following the Doctor's gaze to the pretty woman, "She's way out of your league."

The boy payed for his book, and left the shop with a smirk on his face.

The Doctor watched him go with his lips twisted into a frown.

He sat down on his stool behind the counter and pulled out '20,000 Leagues Under the Sea,' munching mindlessly on an apple as he did so.

Books were his everything. When all his friends were gone, his books were there to embrace him and accept him for as long as he was willing to read them.

He'd just turned twenty-nine, but he felt like an eighty year old who'd gone through the loss of all of his friends and family.

He went to the university to study anthropology, hoping that such a degree would help fill his need to travel and learn about different people.

When he was nineteen he'd met Amy and Rory. Rory was studying to be a nurse, and Amy, struggling to attain an English major. They became his best friends, and he loved them all so much that his happiness knew no limits. When Rory proposed to Amy, the Doctor had offered to pay for their wedding. When they'd gotten married, he had offered up his house for the new couple to stay in. Soon after, he met River Song, femme fatale, and lover of adventure. A month after they'd first met, she somehow convinced him to break into the lab in the dead of night, and place push pins in the vicious Professor Dorium's chair. The morning after, River had waltzed into the class, pulled him out of his seat, and kissed him senseless in front of about fifty other people.

He didn't even react when Professor Dorium began yelling about his bum because all he could think of was River's lips against his. Without quite realizing it, he fell in love with her.

That all ended after graduation.

One morning he woke up, expecting River to be lying against his chest, but found her to not be anywhere in the house. Later, when he checked the fridge for food, he found a note in her handwriting saying that she would be in Africa for a year, that he was a sweet boy, and that one day he would find someone absolutely fantastic to love him with all their hearts, but that that person just couldn't be her.

He'd moped about the ordeal for weeks, but whenever he tried to talk to Amy and Rory about it, both of them were too inexplicably happy to even concentrate on what he was saying.

It turns out that Amy had gotten pregnant, and was expecting a baby girl.

A few months later, his friends' child was born in his house because of its need to see the world at four in the morning.

He remembered the occasion with a wince: all of Amy's screaming, Rory's frantic excitement, the blood, and the hand crushing.

But at the end of those two terrible hours, he was holding his best friend's baby in his arms and thinking to himself about how beautiful new life could be.

Only afterward, when he was scrambling about, talking about all the places they could take the baby, did the Ponds reveal that they were moving to New York in two weeks time.

The Doctor had been heartbroken.

He never got to really know his mother, though he'd heard enough about her to know that she was smart to leave a husband who screwed his secretaries behind her back. His only grudge against her was that she hadn't taken him away as well.

His father, John Smith I, had been a wealthy man who owned Sonic Industries, a company that specialized in making computers. From childhood John Smith II had despised his name, claiming that it was a boring name, and that he hated boring. So one day, he decided that he wanted to be called Doctor, and the nickname had stuck so much that most people didn't know his real name.

When the Doctor's father died, the old man had handed down Sonic Industries to his eldest son, Koschei, and had given his younger son John, a fortune that could sustain him for several lifetimes.

Instead of living luxuriously as his father had no doubt envisioned him doing, the Doctor had invested a part of his fortune into a decently grand bookshop with four small apartments on top, and another part on a blue microbus he nicknamed the TARDIS. The rest of his fortune had been stuffed into a bank account for rainy days that never came, and his plans to travel the world were gradually abandoned.

He took another loud bite of his apple, and chewed.

He was about to turn the page when he heard someone clear their throat meaningfully.

The lanky man straightened his back and looked around, startled to find the young woman from earlier glaring at him from her table.

He took another bite of the large apple, annoyed that he'd been so rudely interrupted, and was about to return to his book when, much to his surprise, she stood up from her table and marched up to the counter with her arms crossed over her chest.

He stood up quickly, and cringed under her intense glare.

"Oi, chin boy, do you see those papers over there?"

She pointed at the cart back at her desk, and he nodded timidly, astonished that someone so small could to be so feisty. Hold on! Chin boy? There was nothing wrong with his chin!

"I need to have those papers graded by eight o'clock because after that there is no way I'm going to be able to get anything done at home, and your stupid chomping is really distracting. So when a woman coughs and glares at you, it means you're doing something wrong and you'd better stop or she'll throw something at you," she said huffily.

He closed his book and looked at her for a while, holding her burning gaze for about five seconds before dropping the look and sadly tossing his snack into a bin beneath the counter.

"Thank you," she said, her voice softer than before.

He watched her go back to her table and tried to focus on his book but kept sneaking glances at her between pages until eventually, he stopped trying to read altogether.

He found himself admiring how the fading sunlight caught on her hair and made parts of it look golden, and on how whenever she smiled at something on the paper she was grading, a small, perfect dimple would appear in her cheek.

Finally, two minutes to eight, she gathered her papers hastily and with the slightest of waves to him, left the shop.

He watched her go with a smile and read on until his assistants returned with a carful of books from the French convention.

"You alright Doctor, ya look a bit, well, cheerful," Jenny said, hopping out of the backseat, and not bothering to beat around the bush with one of her closest friends.

The Doctor shook his head, affectionately giving the young woman a hug, "Its nothing, Jenny. How'd it go for you three?"

A tall and haughty looking woman appeared from the passenger seat, "Quite well if I may say so myself. How are you Doctor?"

The Doctor wasn't deterred by her coolness, and stepped forward with outstretched arms to give her a hug.

Vastra bore it with grace, but pushed him away slightly when it became too tight.

A short, stout man stepped out of the car, and shook the Doctor's hand, "I'm pleased to report that the operation went according to plan sir."

The foursome entered the bookshop conversing about the events of the week, but the Doctor was distracted by the sight of a red satchel lying beneath a chair.

He bent down to retrieve it and an ID card on a lanyard fell out.

He brought the card close to his face, and his eyes widened.

_Clara Oswald_  
_Teacher_  
_Grade 1_

The satchel belonged to the woman who'd snapped at him earlier, and somehow the fact that he was going to see her again filled him with more happiness than any of his books had in a very long time.

**A/N: And thus it begins. ****_Please_**** leave a review about anything you all think needs some work (I embrace constructive criticism), or if you liked it then just say a few words. Thank you for reading and hopefully I'll have the next chapter up sometime next week :)**


	2. Chapter 2

_Chapter 2- The Duck Pond Misadventure _

He'd been lost in the maze of shelves that were the Gallifrey Bookshop, ankle deep in guilt for allowing the assistants to go out in the snowstorm to buy hot chocolate when a fierce knocking sounded on the glass door.

A female voice followed, calling out for someone to open the door.

He peeked out from the shelves with his arms half piled with seasonal literature, and hesitated on whether to open the door or not.

The shop didn't open until eight in the morning on the weekends, and it was only six thirty.

"Oi! I can see you in there so please, open the door, its important!"

From the small area of the transparent door not covered by book posters, he saw the upper part of a flushed face looking inside with desperation.

Not Jenny.

He set down the books on a rickety table and straightened his bow tie nervously.

Running a quick hand through his floppy hair, he approached the door and unlocked it.

The woman had been leaning against it, so that when he opened the door, she almost fell in.

A gust of cold wind followed her, along with a flurry of snowflakes.

He caught her by the elbow and it was a few moments before she recovered her balance.

She was a sopping wet mess with freezing water dripping off of her clothes and off of her skin. Draped over her left arm was an equally sodden coat.

She looked up at him and some recognition flashed through her eyes.

Her teeth chattered in between words,"Oh. It's-it's you."

He tensed, "Clara Oswald."

She raised her eyebrows slowly, the tiniest of smiles on her lips.

"You-you looked through my satchel."

He stiffened, "No! No. No. Your ID fell from the bag when I picked it up, it was an accident!"

"Right," she said slowly, clearly doubtful toward his explanation, and rubbing her bare arms to arms to try to warm them up.

The door shut behind her, the bell tinkling softly as he led Clara to a table nearest to the heating system.

"What happened to you," he asked, trying not to wince at the large puddle of water forming at her feet.

She laughed, or tried to, for the sound came out a bit broken.

"Would you believe falling into the Thames?"

The Doctor froze, taking a small unconscious step away from her.

"I'm-I'm kidding, Chin b-boy. I fell into a duck pond on the way here. Now please give me my satchel. It's red, and with a strap."

He jumped over the counter and began digging through drawers until he came across one of the blankets his assistants kept for the cold days.

He jumped back over and set the blanket over her shoulders.

"This isn't my satchel."

"You're going to have to take those clothes off," he said, ignoring her comment, and then grimacing a second later at his own.

"I didn't mean..."

"I understand, I do."

He pulled the red bag from a box labeled 'Lost and Found' on top of the main desk, and handed it to her.

She took it in her hands, and closed her eyes for the briefest second, clearly exhausted from her ordeal.

The Doctor squirmed when she stood up, making to go back into the storm.

"You can't go out there," his traitor mouth blurted out, "It's freezing, you're wet, and schools are closed on Saturdays anyway."

She turned back to look at him, "You really memorized my ID didn't ya?"

He went pink but didn't stutter, "There's an empty flat up on top of this building, it has a hot shower and towels and anything you may need, except clothes, but I can get one of the assistants to lend you some, she's only a wee bit taller than you."

It was her turn to blush, and she shook her head, "Oh no, I couldn't. That's not necessary, I'm sure the owner wouldn't like some random person bathing in their empty flat, no. I-I can't."

The Doctor smiled, "I think he'll be okay with it."

She smirked, "Oh yes, and this is coming from the guy who works here."

His smile grew smug, "No, _this_ is coming from the owner of the entire building."

Her eyes grew wide, "You own the building?"

He nodded, "Do you still want to turn down the offer? Or do you want to go back out there in... That."

He looked at her clothes then up to her eyes, blazing with warmth and gratefulness.

"Thank you."

He felt his heart swell like a balloon in his chest at her thanks, and was in a bit of a trance as he led her up. He was about to turn on the shower for her when she coughed meaningfully and he left stuttering about how he would get some clothes.

"Wait!"

He turned around, "Yes?"

"What's your name? I can see that you're not a big fan of Chin Boy."

This assumption was a lie, for he found the nickname endearing, not that he would ever admit it.

"Just call me the Doctor."

"Doctor who?"

"Just the Doctor," he said, already climbing down the stairs.

"No really, Doctor who?!"

He grinned, hopping down the stairs two steps at a time.

The three assistants came in a few seconds later, all with chattering teeth and pink noses.

"My god it is a monstrosity out there," Vastra said, clinging to her chocolate with long elegant fingers.

Jenny pushed her hood off and shuddered, "You can't even see the world a couple feet in front of ya. It's dangerous that's what it is."

Strax shrugged, "I went through worse when I was in the service. Weather that would make you lasses think this was a light snowfall."

Jenny glared at Strax before handing a large cup of hot chocolate to the Doctor, "Vastra thought we should bring you one too, sir."

"Thank you, Jenny," he said, "By any chance would you happen to have some extra clothes you could lend to a young woman. She's upstairs taking a shower right now, and her own clothes are absolutely sodden."

Jenny and Vastra exchanged knowing looks, and Jenny raised an eyebrow, "Oh?"

"No! Shut up, not like that. She was coming to retrieve the satchel she left here by accident yesterday, and she fell into a duck pond. I offered her the top flat's shower because... Well I didn't exactly want her to catch her death now did I?"

He took a hasty gulp of the chocolate and burned the roof of his mouth.

She patted his arm understandingly, "I'll take some things up for her, sir."

* * *

"So do you all live in this building," Clara asked from the bathroom, pulling a t-shirt over her head.

Jenny sat on the edge of the bed, and didn't even glance up from her noir mystery novel at Clara's question.

She only turned the page and gave a polite, "Mhmm."

"And the Doctor? Does he live here too?"

Jenny gave another vague yes, and Clara stuck her head out, "Are you and him..."

The young woman in question shook her head, flushing deeply, "Oh no ma'am, he's like an older brother to me. I'm not exactly interested in men you see. Vastra and I...we've been together for a good year now."

Clara grinned, "That's sweet."

Jenny nodded in appreciation, and Clara emerged from the bathroom in her dry clothes.

"You've no idea how cold that duck pond was, I probably would've drowned had it been any deeper."

Closing her novel, Jenny frowned.

"Did you hear about the nanny who drowned in a pond last year?"

Clara tensed suddenly, and her jaw clenched, "Yes..."

"That was a terrible accident," Jenny continued, oblivious to Clara's agitation, "I hear the Latimers' got a new nanny to care for the children, so at least the children aren't left alone while the Captain is away."

Clara nodded weakly, her fingers trembling as they placed a few pins in her hair.

Jenny noticed her paleness and frowned as Clara turned around and asked if she looked alright.

The cockney woman placing a hand against the skin of Clara's forehead, "You're burnin' up dear!"

Clara shrugged, making her way toward the stairs, "I'll just take some fever medication when I get home."

With hesitation, Jenny let her continue.

Clara managed to get halfway down the stairs, when dizziness overcame her and she toppled the rest of the way down, coming to a stop at the third floor staircase.

Jenny ran down and fell to her knees, turning Clara onto her side before crying out for help, "Doctor! Miss Oswald fell down the stairs! I think she's 'avin a seizure!"

** A/N: (Sorry about the cliffhanger, ahhhhh!) So this is going to be a bit of a mystery as well as a romance... but its really a gradual story, so bear with me here. As always, thank you for reading, and leave a comment if you'd like, I really appreciate all reviews :)**


	3. Chapter 3

_Chapter 3 - Silly Man_

Clara gave the slightest shake of the head from her position on the ground, " 'm fine. Just really dizzy."

Jenny squeaked, clapped a hand over her mouth, and spoke in a muffled voice, "Dear god, are you alright?"

The Doctor appeared, closely followed by Vastra and Strax.

Clara looked a bit guilty as the Doctor and Jenny helped her get to her feet.

"No, no don't touch me! I might give you my cold!"

The Doctor frowned, "Your what?"

She avoided his gaze.

"I already had a fever when I left home," the small woman confessed, leaning ever so slightly on the Doctor, but catching herself at the last second and clutching the stair rail with a white knuckled grip.

"Why on earth," the Doctor began, but Strax cut him off abruptly.

"Miss Oswald, I don't think what is ailing you is a-"

Clara wasn't listening, "The drugstore wouldn't give me the medicine for one of the children unless I had my driver's license so I came here to get it back, and well... I fell in a duck pond."

"Why not just drive," the Doctor asked exasperatedly.

The shorter woman seemed to be struggling to keep herself upright and muttered something about being out of petroleum.

Between the Doctor and Strax, the two men managed to get Clara back into the bookshop and onto a recliner.

The Doctor was rummaging through his medicine cabinet, looking for some Tylenol for his sick visitor when the building was plunged into darkness.

The lights flickered back on a second later, and he let out a breath he hasn't realized he was holding.

When he returned to the bookshop, the assistants were bustling around doing their duties, and Clara was in the recliner looking like she would love nothing more than to sink into sleep, but something else was keeping her from doing so.

"Thank you for... everything really. You people are the kindest shop workers," she looked at the Doctor, "And owner I've ever met, but if its all the same to you, I really need to get going."

She coughed into her elbow before standing up from the recliner.

There was a murmur of dissent from the assistants as she took her red satchel from the counter and made to go out into the storm.

She opened the door, and let in a blast of icy wind.

Hesitantly, the Doctor placed a hand on her shoulder.

"It's not safe to go out there," he said.

Clara looked frustrated now, "You don't understand. I _have_ to go. I have children to take care of, and if I don't get back soon they'll be all alone."

The Doctor gulped, feeling the heat of her feverish skin rising up through the layers of borrowed clothing and onto his hand.

"You can't walk through that, you'll die," he said, letting a bit of desperation leak into his voice, "You fell down my stairs just under twenty minutes ago, your skin is painful to the touch, and don't tell me you're fine because even a baby can see that you are not fine."

Clara shook his hand off, "With all due respect, Doctor, why do you care? I'm just a woman who left her bag in your shop, and fell in a duck pond on the way to get it back. We're strangers."

He took a few seconds of considering her question before her answered, "I care because I can't have somebody else's death on my conscience."

_I don't want another Rose..._

She noticed the almost imperceptible change in his expression. Something heavy, something buried, something painful. It changed to false cheeriness before she could look further into it.

"At least let me take you to your home. I have a Microbus out back with great tires for the snow, and a brilliant heating system! Eh? What do you say?"

He was already steering her from the shop door to the back entrance, and before she had time to protest, he had opened the passenger door to the oddest vehicle she'd ever seen.

It was blue, it was big, and it was so _him_.

"I-."

"In you pop," he insisted.

Warily, she complied, and while he walked around to the driver's seat, she took the opportunity to have a look around the van.

The Microbus had all its second row of seats taken out, and in the stead of those seats there was a comforter with various items strewn about it.

Among these items, she saw a copy of 'The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy,' a couple mugs with the tea bags still in, and a half empty package of Jammy Dodgers.

She shivered, feeling the full effects of her cold for the first time since getting out of that wonderful shower (why didn't her shower spray water at her from all sides? It honestly wasn't fair.)

It hurt to swallow, and she silently cursed herself for allowing Digby to give her a hug in the midst of his own fight with a cold.

"Are you alright," the Doctor asked, strapping on his seatbelt and starting up the engine.

She nodded, forcing a smile.

"I guess the cold just hit me really hard," she said quietly, resting back in the seat and closing her eyes.

"It seems a bit harsh for a cold, don't you think," he asked, and she chuckled, "I was thinking the same thing."

"So where to," he asked.

Slowly sliding her eyes open, she turned her head toward him, "If you don't mind, please take me to the drugstore at the end of the street, and then to the big house two streets down. You won't miss it."

Almost to herself, she added, "Though a few dates of mine have said differently."

He didn't quite know how to respond, so he brought up another question.

"So how old are your children?" he asked casually.

The question sent her into a fit of coughing that made him regret asking at all.

"I do NOT have children," she said firmly after recovering from the fit.

"Then why were you...?"

"I'm a nanny," she explained.

"But I thought you were a schoolteacher."

"I am," she said, "I care for my niece and nephew after eight pm on weekdays and in the weekends while their father, Captain Latimer, is at work."

"Oh," he said, not saying more while he tried to figure out why the name sounded familiar.

"That's why I have to be back there as soon as possible or their father will leave and they'll be all alone."

"What of their mother," he asked without thinking, his hands turning the steering wheel, and pulling into the next street.

She stiffened, "My sister Evelyn died a few years ago in a car accident. My mother passed away in the same accident."

The Doctor risked taking his eyes off of the snowy road to look at her.

"Clara.."

Her name rolled off of his tongue as if he spoke it on a daily basis. It made his heart beat just a little faster for reasons he didn't quite understand. And when she turned away from him to look out at the white world, he felt it drop in his chest.

"...You're doing a great thing," he said at last, his voice catching at the end of the sentence.

"I know," she said, and smiled at him.

After that they fell into a comfortable silence that lasted the rest of the ride to the drugstore, and continued until they reached Clara's abode.

The van pulled to a stop outside of the Latimer house, and the snow was falling with such a ferocity that as soon as the Doctor tried opening the door, it was slammed back shut.

He forced it open and walked into the swirling white.

He immediately was slapped in the face by the bitter wind, and felt a million snowflakes burn into his skin.

He trudged over to the passenger door, threw it open, and saw Clara lose her balance under the influence of her sickness and the force of the wind. He caught her and pulled her into his side, his body acting as a sort of shield for her against the elements. He held her tightly against his chest, and together they moved forward and onto the front steps of the two story home.

Still supporting Clara, he knocked a couple times on the large wooden door.

A girl with waist length blonde hair opened the door, and let out a whimper of worry when she saw Clara.

"Not you too!"

Clara emerged from behind the Doctor's arm, trying to look strong in front of her niece.

"Don't worry about me," Clara said soothingly, "Is your father still home Francesca or has he left for the station already?"

The girl played with her hands, "Father said that Digby has the flu, and not just a cold. He called Dr. Jones and she should be getting here soon, but Auntie, I'm afraid you've caught it too."

"The flu?" Clara almost cried, "Oh great!"

The Doctor frowned at Clara's misfortune.

Now feeling weaker than ever, she slumped against him, and the Doctor thanked his lucky stars for his superb immune system. Had it been any weaker he would feared getting sick too.

He half walked, half carried Clara to her room, and found himself uncomfortable at any and all prospects that involved her bed, so he said a quick goodbye and left the room like a frightened mouse.

He warned Francesca to stay away from Clara while she was ill, and to entertain herself with a book, or a movie, or even the computer for the day while her relatives recovered.

The girl showed him out, and it was only when he was sitting in the driver's seat of his van that he looked back at the house and remembered seeing an article in the paper about the mysterious drowning of the Latimer's nanny in a neighborhood pond.

The woman had been stuck in the ice for twenty-three days before they found her.

He shuddered at the thought that Clara could have shared that same fate.

That night he had a nightmare of a young woman with Clara's face, and Clara's voice, pounding with her fists on a thick layer of ice that had formed over a pond she was trapped in.

He tried to help, but the ice wouldn't budge.

He saw her expression fall as she realized that he wouldn't be able to help her.

The Doctor woke up coated in a layer of slick sweat, and took a few seconds to remind himself that Clara was at home, that she was only a flitting customer, and that he was being a silly, silly man.

**A/N: thank you for reading, and if any of you all have questions, or comments, or advice for this, please leave a review. I'm having a lot of fun writing this, and am finding it a neat little challenge to incorporate canon into this AU fic :) Next chapter should be up soon!**


	4. Chapter 4

_Chapter 4- Something_

A week passed before he saw her again.

She walked into the shop, and much like the first time he saw her, she was lugging a cart full of papers to grade.

She acknowledged his presence with a slight smile, but aside from the small gesture, their communication was almost inexistent.

Ten minutes to eight, she packed up and left without another word.

It went on like this for another couple of weeks, and when November melted into December, he found himself anticipating the moments she walked into the shop.

His books didn't seem to be as interesting when she was there, and he caught himself watching her.

Between putting away books, helping customers, and mending old volumes his eyes would drift around the shop, and always, no matter what, they would fall on her.

Whenever her head lifted, he would immediately look away and return to whatever he had previously been doing.

Clara noticed his staring, and although it could sometimes be flustering, she much preferred it to what she got at home. For her, the bookshop was a quiet, eclectic little place to do her work without the discomfort that came with living in her sister's old home.

The problem didn't lie in the children, for they were wonderful, and only rarely tried her patience. She loved them as much as an aunt could love her nephews, and even then she probably loved them a little bit more.

But as kind and flattering as her sister's widower, Thomas could be, she never saw herself being romantically involved with him.

That, however, didn't mean that her feelings in regard to the matter were mutual.

His harmless infatuation for her had recently doubled in intensity after she (in a stupid act of loyalty) pretended to be his girlfriend in front of a rather nasty coworker.

His displays of affection were since then more bold.

He invited her to the cinema with Francesca and Digby, and seeing it as no more than a thoughtful invitation, she said yes. His hand had rested on her waist while they were in line, and throughout the duration of the film, he had his arm around her shoulders. Later, when they were having dinner, he'd leaned over and planted an uncalled for kiss on the cheek. Her mind had gone numb, and for the rest of the evening she had said nothing to him.

Thomas was kind, there was no doubt of that, but her feelings for him were platonic, and his feelings for her were anything but.

The mere thought of being with her sister's widower _intimately_ made her feel all levels of uncomfortable.

That's why she was so keen to spend time away from the house.

She was afraid that at any moment, he would pull her into his bedroom for a little more than a kiss on the cheek and she would be faced with rejecting him.

Clara shook her head of the troubling thoughts, and grinned softly at one of her first grader's stick figure drawings of their family.

She wrote a small 'A+' on the top wrote corner, and moved on to the next one.

A shadow fell on her table.

"That is a hell of a lot of paperwork."

She felt her lips twitch upwards involuntarily, and raised her head slowly.

"Hello stranger."

Her eyes swept up from his suspenders to his bow tie, and then to the round glasses on the bridge of his nose.

She got a little distracted by his eyes, but quickly snapped out of it.

"It is," she said, "But I do it everyday. I'm used to it. "

The Doctor picked up one of the papers and grinned, "Properly cute, that one. Don't you get bored though?"

Clara sighed, making a quick check mark with her pen, "Never as much bored as tired I'm afraid. This is my first year and they've put me with the most troublesome first graders on the planet."

Her eyes drearily looked back at the cart, still more than halfway full.

She was unable to mask her surprise when he pulled up a chair and sat next to her.

From a pocket on the inside of his tweed jacket, he pulled out a red pen.

Sheepishly, he nudged her shoulder with his and asked for a paper.

"You're going to help me?"

He suddenly became uncertain, "Only if you want me to. I thought you could use some company... Now that I think of it, you probably don't, I'm sorry."

The Doctor started to get up, but she pulled him down.

"No, stay! Thank you. Help would be amazing," she said.

"Alright," he said, taking an armful of papers from the cart and placing them on the table, "Okay. So what do I do?"

She explained to him the process, and before long they got a steady rhythm going.

They spoke little, with Clara gently sending little corrections his way, and the Doctor making comments on what brilliant artists her little ones were. Somehow though, they began speaking of other things. She mentioned his bookshop, and how it was smaller on the outside. He asked about her jobs, if she liked them. She said she liked one of them, and tolerated the other. There was no further elaboration on the matter. He asked no more. He knew people too well to pry into what was none of his business.

Customers in need of assistance got one of the workers to help them navigate the maze. They didn't want to bother him. The regulars knew well enough the he was rarely happy, and right now, as he helped the small woman with her work, he was indeed happy.

What took Clara three hours was shortened into one an a half with the Doctor by her side.

By six thirty, she had finished grading the final paper, and wanted to throw her arms around him.

"I'm done. We're done! Yes!"

She laughed and gave him a look of absolute gratitude.

"Yes, you are."

She looked at the clock on the wall and her expression fell.

It was only six thirty. Her shift didn't start until eight o'clock, but if she entered the house there would be no doubt that she would be asked for many things, and Thomas would see it as another opportunity to win her affections. Also...she didn't want to go.

"What is it?"

"Nothing," she said quickly, smiling and loading the papers onto the cart.

The Doctor stood up, a question on the tip of his tongue.

Somehow it managed to stay stuck there until he felt it was choking him and she asked if he was alright.

"Tea," he squeaked, his voice an octave too high.

"Excuse me?"

He cleared his throat, "I was wondering if you would like to have tea," he pointed the the space above them, "Up in my flat... I've got milk, and sugar, and oh! Jammy Dodgers!"

She giggled despite herself, nodding her head, "Okay."

"Okay?"

"Yeah, Okay."

His face split into a wide grin, and she couldn't help but return it.

"This way Miss Oswald," he said, beckoning her up the staircase and sending a halfhearted glare toward a very smug looking Jenny and Vastra.

* * *

"You have a record player?!"

Eyes alight with amusement, he tipped over an old tea kettle and poured the steaming liquid into two mugs.

He opened a fresh pack of Jammy Dodgers, and in a moment of pure childishness, took a bite of one before placing it carelessly back in the bowl.

Carrying the tray into his living room, he put it down on the table and watched Clara sift through his collection of records.

"Led Zepplin," she muttered, "Pink Floyd, The Beatles!"

She took out _Abbey Road _and held it out to him.

"This is one of my favorites!"

The Doctor took the record from her hands, "In that case..."

He lifted the needle, and placed the record on the platter.

After a pause, John Lennon and Paul Mccartney's voices were heard singing, and Clara let out a laugh of pure delight.

"Haven't heard this since I was a kid and my mum played it on _her_ record player!"

He tried handing her her mug but she ignored it and stood up, moving her head up and down to the music.

"Come on Chin Boy, you're not just going to leave me up here alone."

She hauled him up and pulled him toward her with both hands.

They wacky danced for about a minute, in which Clara was twirled several times, until she was leaning against his chest to keep herself upright.

"Something" began playing, the beat slower than the first song.

Their laughter seized, and the Doctor became all to aware of her breath tickling his chest.

They moved side to side, slowly but in sync with the music.

"So, Doctor," she began quietly, "Got someone special?"

"Well of course I do."

She stiffened under him.

"My friends are special to me, the customers-"

"That's not what I meant, Doctor."

He gulped, his hand unconsciously moved up and down her side, "Oh... Well, no, no I haven't got a _special _someone."

A beat, "Do you?"

She sighed, "I've got someone who is trying to be that someone, but... I can't..."

He didn't say anything, waiting for her to continue.

"The children's father... He..."

The Doctor became worried, "Did he do something to you?"

Clara shook her head, "Nothing like that, I'm just afraid that eventually its going to get there."

They danced like that until the record stopped playing, and only then did the Doctor speak again.

"Is it weird that I really want to be your friend," he asked quietly.

"Seems like you want a little more than that with the way your hand is sliding closer and closer to my bum," she said, pulling away at last and giving him a cheeky wink.

The Doctor blushed, and hastily put his hands behind his back.

She lifted her tea mug from coffee table and swallowed a mouthful of some excellent, if cold tea before looking back at him.

"Tell you what," she began slowly, "A friend of mine, she's throwing a Christmas party, and I need a plus one or else she'll probably force me to snog some random bloke under the mistletoe."

She took a deep breath, "Anyways, would you like to come with me?"

The Doctor felt his breath hitch before nodding his head.

"Brilliant," she said, and before he could process what was going on, her arms were around his waist and she was giving him a hug.

Uncertainly, he hugged her back.

She checked her watch and cursed before looking up at him, "Damn, it's past eight. I forgot. So it's this Saturday at eight, the kids are going away for the weekend with their father so the house will be empty, just me! Oh god, I'm late. I've got to go, I'm so sorry."

The Doctor shook his head, "No, it's fine. Thank you, Clara for having tea with me. I can give you a ride if you'd like, the van is just out back..."

She shook her head, "Nah. Sometimes I like running. I can't come tomorrow because I've got a staff meeting. So see you Saturday then?"

He grinned, "Saturday it is."

**A/N: Oooh, a Christmas party! Yay? Maybe. Even though this is AU its still Doctor Who, and next chapter, we get to the mystery ;) ****_Please_**** leave a review, and the next chapter should be out in a couple of days.**


	5. Chapter 5

_Chapter 5- The Christmas Party _

The Doctor stood in front of the doors to the Latimer house, uncertainty running through his body and making him rethink his every move.

He looked down at himself, and suddenly regretted wearing a dark purple coloured jumper over his white button up. Too cheesy? Would she like it? Would she not?

His fingers reached up to fiddle with his matching bow tie, nervously straightening it before swallowing his anxiety and knocking a gloved hand on the door.

His toes curled and uncurled in his boots, a clear sign of his agitation as he waited for Clara to open the door.

Snow was falling lightly, and a brisk wind pricked needles at his exposed face.

The door cracked open, and a part of Clara's face peeked out, "Doctor?"

"Hello."

The door opened the rest of the way, and revealed Clara wearing a deep red cocktail dress that nicely accentuated the color in her cheeks. Her hair was pulled up intricately to the side, and she wore a coat of burgundy lipstick.

The Doctor stood with his mouth half open, taking in the woman whom he'd only ever seen in jeans, and casual dresses.

"Down boy," she said playfully, "Why don't you take a picture, it'll last longer."

He blushed, "Are you ready to go?"

She nodded before doing a quick twirl.

"So what do you think?"

The Doctor's fumbled for words, knowing that 'nice' would earn him a frown, and 'beautiful' would be a bit much for someone he knew so little.

"Fantastic."

She grinned, "Let me just get my coat..."

* * *

The Doctor found the Christmas party quite interesting, if a bit chaotic.

Clara had introduced him to the host of the party, a pretty young woman named Nina, whose connection to Clara was accompanied by furious blushing on the part of both women.

He'd also been reintroduced to Dr. Martha Jones, an old friend from high school, who greeted him with a tight hug and the news that she was getting married in the spring to a Mickey Smith.

After that the Doctor tried to remember the people who walked up to Clara and said hello, but the task proved almost impossible because it seemed that Nina had invited all of London and a neighboring village. He soon stopped trying to remember and instead focused on counting how many times a couple passed by kissing and going into empty bedrooms, closets, or bathrooms. So far, he was at seven.

Most everybody had a drink in their hand, including Clara, but he'd refused until Clara told him he was being a spoilsport. After that he accepted a bottle of beer and took a tentative sip every ten minutes or so.

They danced in the living room to some popular music, conversed with strangers, and finally settled for leaning against a wall and just talking.

They spoke of their pasts and their plans for the future, their conversation interrupted only by Clara accepting a new drink.

"I want to travel," Clara confessed, "I just... Don't have the time. Not anymore."

The Doctor turned his head at her words, "Oh?"

She sighed, taking a large gulp of her Jack Daniels, "I was... But then half my family died, and things just didn't work out. I had to help care for Evelyn's children..."

"Wasn't there a nanny before you? Why didn't Captain Latimer just hire another?"

She took another hasty drink and didn't answer him.

"I wanted to travel too," he said, puzzled by her closed attitude, "I guess I just lost that urge after my best friends moved to America."

She laughed humorlessly, "My mum and I were going to visit Venice the day after the accident. Some bloke had just dumped me, and she managed to cheer me up with airplane tickets and a speech about how much fun us girls were going to have without men there to spoil everything."

She gave a little sigh and sank into a nearby couch.

"That didn't happen," she muttered.

The Doctor sat down next do her and let out a shaky breath. He still remembered the plans he'd made with Rose. They'd only been seventeen at the time and already he'd gone into two jewelry shops and looked for the perfect ring to put on her hand. He'd fully planned on asking her to marry him after they graduated from university. He'd loved her. _So_ much. She was beautiful. She was kind. She was his Rose, and he was her Doctor.

He downed the last of the beer in one gulp, and saw Clara put her head into her hands for all of a second before reemerging with tear filled eyes.

"So what's the story with you and Nina," he asked softly after a silence in which they watched their party host pull a man into an empty closet.

Clara shrugged, wiping at her eyes, "She was the first person I ever fancied... I was going through a phase..."

The Doctor looked at her, "And she fancied you?"

She winked up at him, "Well she denies it."

He let that settle in and gulped when he saw her eyes trail up from his chest to his face and then to something above his head.

He looked up and then slowly down to her.

"Mistletoe," she breathed, looking at his lips and leaning forward slightly.

She stopped suddenly, and the Doctor cringed at the smell of alcohol on her breath. He became worried. Just how much had she had to drink?!

"I'm rather sleepy, Doctor. I could just...," her eyes closed and she slid down sideways until her head was resting in his lap.

"Tired," she mumbled.

The Doctor nodded, "Right, lets get you home."

She grumbled incoherently when he lifted her into his lap.

He slid an arm under her knees, and another under her back before standing up with a grunt.

The skirt of her dress hitched further up and the Doctor forced himself not to look at her legs.

Weaving through the little crowds of people, he got out of the party and placed a drowsy Clara onto the comforter in the back of the Microbus.

When he hopped into the drivers seat, he was surprised to see her clumsily climbing into the passenger seat.

"Why'd you take me away," she asked.

He started up the engine and checked his watch, "It's past midnight, and I think you've had a bit too much to drin-"

"I don't want to go back home!"

The Doctor pressed gently on the gas pedal and yelped when Clara's hands jerked the steering wheel to the side.

He slammed his foot on the brake pedal and heard the loud thumps of both their heads being thrown against their headrests.

"Clara," he shouted, "That was stupid!"

"I know," she said, her voice shaky.

"You're drunk," he said, trying to steady his racing heartbeat.

"Just enough to be sleepy, not enough to stop thinking," she said, "Doctor you asked me a question at the party."

"What?"

"You asked me why Captain Latimer didn't hire another nanny after Elizabeth drowned. Right?"

He nodded.

Clara shifted in the passenger seat and reached her hand out to pull his keys from the ignition.

The engine dulled, and eventually the only sound came from their breathing.

"He didn't think it was safe, to hire anyone else to care for his children after that."

"But why?"

She licked her lips, "One day last winter, I decided to visit the kids. I was going to surprise them with a movie and some sweets. I thought that being in that house with the same person all day long would probably make them eager for a fresh face, but when I knocked on the door... Nobody answered. It was strange. I knew they were there because I'd rung Thomas before going to ask for permission."

Taking a deep breath, Clara unconsciously moved her hand to a place right below her ribcage.

"I never trusted Elizabeth. I'd caught her trying to get into Thomas's study before. I should've told him. I wish I'd have told him. Anyways, I got the spare key, went inside, and when I got to Francesca's room, Digby was crying right outside..."

Clara was shaking so violently that the Doctor was frightened for her.

"I looked inside and the woman was shouting at Frannie. She gave my niece a slap and that's when I walked in."

The Doctor listened with a growing sense of horror.

Clara had thrown herself between the woman and her niece, shielding the young girl from further abuse. In anger, the woman had stricken Clara so hard in the ribs that Clara hadn't been able to take in a deep breath without crying out in pain.

Realizing that she would be fired, Elizabeth had stormed from the home, and Clara had been left writhing on the ground in agony.

"Doctor, the woman was a part of an illegal drug ring. She'd been sent in to steal some documents from Thomas's office. She broke two of my ribs, and claimed she would be back and that I wouldn't be able to stop her next time."

"But she drowned," he said.

She nodded, "The newspapers forgot to mention that the drowned woman had a gun on her person. A loaded gun."

The Doctor grimaced, "She was going to..."

"She knew that Thomas was working the night shift that day. She was going to swoop in a take the documents by force. I offered myself as a temporary nanny after she left, and that job continued after she died. I sometimes wish I had never offered, because it seems like I'll never be able to focus on teaching or traveling or anything but taking care of those children."

He took her hand in his and gave it a squeeze.

"Why tell me this," he asked.

"Because I don't feel safe in that house," she whispered, her tone almost begging, "Not alone anyways."

* * *

The Doctor was lying on a pile of blankets spread out on the floor of Clara's room. Clara lay on her bed, out like a light.

He stared up at the ceiling, willing sleep to pull him under, but all he could think of was Clara's story and the gruesome image of her in such pain.

Feeling that sleep wasn't going to come, he stood up and rubbed at his face.

He walked over to Clara's bed and looked down at her with a small smile.

He softly placed a hand on her head, and leaned down to kiss her forehead.

She opened her eyes drowsily and smiled up at him.

"Bit keen," she murmured.

The Doctor blushed in the darkness. He hadn't kissed anyone on the forehead since his days with Rose. With River, darkness had meant _other_ things.

The sound of a door opening downstairs caused the very air to suddenly become cold.

Clara bolted up in bed, the sound of the bedsprings painfully loud in the now desperate silence.

He felt his heart begin to beat faster, and motioned for Clara to be quiet.

She looked at him with sheer terror, and slid out of bed.

"Doctor," she whispered, her mind filling with the images of an armed intruder as footsteps were heard climbing up the stairs.

"I know."

**A/N: Wow guys, ten reviews for that last chapter? That's pretty amazing. I'm glad you all are enjoying the story. ****_Please_**** leave a comment or a critique, and the next chapter should be up in a couple of days! :)**


	6. Chapter 6

_Chapter 6 - Intruder Alert_

Every breath was a violent gust of wind, every shift in their position, an earthquake.

The Doctor stood chest to chest with Clara in the obscurest corner of her closet behind her clothes.

Neither of them dared to speak, and the Doctor thought he detected the faint sound of Clara's heartbeat over his own.

Clara's hand found his, and squeezed it until he heard the loud pop of a joint.

"Ow," he breathed.

"Sorry."

He held his breath as the door to Clara's bedroom opened with a creak.

Loud thumps were heard as drawers were pulled open and slammed shut.

Papers were heard being scattered about the room.

And then silence.

The door from the closet was thrown open, and Clara might have squeaked in surprise had the Doctor not pulled her flush against him.

He pushed his back flat against the wall and shut his eyes tightly. He felt the tickle of Clara's eyelashes on his chest telling him that she had done the same.

The intruder looked through Clara's clothes carelessly, as though he knew what he was looking for wouldn't be found amongst short red dresses and military-like boots.

He gave a slight huff of irritation and left the closet door open before leaving to ransack another room.

In the few minutes that followed, the Doctor and Clara were incredibly still; both were relieved that the immediately danger was over, but both were intelligent enough to know that the situation they were in could very well be life and death.

Carefully, Clara emerged from the closet, her fingernails digging little half moons into the skin of the Doctor's hand.

"Oh my stars."

Her room was in ruins.

Half-graded assignments littered the room, and her mattress had been overturned.

The remnants of Clara's cell phone lay in pieces at their feet.

The Doctor regretted forgetting his own phone at the bookshop.

The Doctor raised a finger to his lips, telling her to be quiet.

He caught sight of a cricket bat lying by her desk and wrapped his fingers around the handle.

Clutching a small can of portable pepper spray, Clara followed him out of the room.

"What are we going to do," Clara asked, her voice so faint that even he couldn't be sure that he had heard it.

He kissed her hair in an attempt to reassure her, "We're going to find the house phone and call the police."

"Are you?" A stranger's voice asked.

The Doctor stiffened.

Clara's eyes closed and her heartbeat sped up.

She slipped the pepper spray into the sleeve of her pajama shirt when the intruder commanded them to turn around.

A tall man of around fifty held a gun up at them.

"Drop the cricket bat. Its no use to you against me."

"It might help a little," the Doctor said, raising the bat.

Clara felt herself being roughly pulled toward the man, and grimaced at the feel of cold metal being pressed against her head.

"Not unless you want to see me blow your lady friend's brains out. Now drop it!" He barked.

Her frightened eyes met the Doctors and slowly he placed the bat on the floor.

"Very good."

The man bent down to whisper in Clara's ear, "Now you're going to do exactly as I tell you to or I might just have to have a little fun with you before I put a bullet through your stupid little head."

He stroked her cheek tauntingly, relishing the raw fear emanating from the small woman.

"Let her go," the Doctor said, his voice low.

The intruder shoved Clara away but kept the gun pressed against her back.

"Take me to the Captain's office."

* * *

_He's a part of the drug ring, he's going to kill us, we're going to die_

Clara's thoughts seemed be stuck in a constant loop of these three statements.

The Doctor stood by her, his presence an enormous comfort despite the ominous pressure on her lower back.

They came to a stop in front of the Captain's office.

She looked down at the numeric lock, the combination surfacing in her minds eye.

"Open it."

"I can't," she whispered.

"You know the combination. You're the woman he's in love with. The woman who leads him on. He's bound to have told you at some point or another."

Clara shot the Doctor an anxious look, but he wouldn't meet her eyes.

Sighing, Clara reached down and put in the four digit combination.

The light flashed green and she pushed the door open.

"Where does he keep his papers?"

Clara motioned to the filing cabinet.

"Open it."

* * *

The man had forced Clara to go through evert single file in the cabinet until she reached a file labeled 'Unknown.'

At this, the man wrenched the file from Clara's hands and thrust her roughly aside.

He let the gun hang loosely in his hand as he opened the file and riffled through the papers.

For the first time his mouth parted in a victorious grin that made Clara's stomach churn.

"This is going to make me and my people filthy rich," he said.

"What is it," Clara asked, now looking for any way to distract their assailant.

"The future Miss Oswald. This drug is going to change things. Latimer doesn't know what kind of information he's got in these pages. He doesn't know what they've cost him. Lord, he still thinks his wife dying was an accident."

_What?!_

Clara felt the world go blurry, and suddenly the Doctor was there, supporting her.

"Evelyn," she whispered.

The man let out a cruel laugh, "That's right! She was your sister, wasn't she?! Oh, and mummy died too. That's... That's just not fair is it?"

A blood boiling rage seemed to come to life in every cell of Clara's body.

Her face flushed a brilliant shade of red, and from her sleeve she withdrew a small container.

The Doctor watched the incident as though it were in slow motion.

One second Clara was at his side, the next she was walking up to the man and spraying him in the eyes.

The man bellowed in rage, firing aimlessly a few times before dropping the gun and attempting to fend off Clara's attack.

"You bastard," she screeched, pummeling him several times in the face, "You destroyed my life!"

Finally she drew her fist back and hit him so hard that he was knocked out cold.

The Doctor lifted her off of him, and held her in his arms until her howls subsided into whimpers, and her whimpers faded into short gasps of grief.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly.

She pulled away, and turned to look at the unconscious man.

She bent over and tugged the papers from his limp hand.

"You son of a bitch," she whispered to the man, picking up his gun from the floor, "I hope you get life for what you did to my family."

And with that she tugged the Doctor from the room and locked the door behind her.

* * *

When the police finally left, they took into custody Walter Simeon, a henchman for the leader of an underground group know only as 'The Great Intelligence,' as well as the documents the group had been looking for.

The Doctor had made some tea for Clara, and she was now sitting on the couch downstairs with her knees pulled up to her chest.

Neither of them would be able to sleep now.

"More?" he asked, holding up the teakettle.

"Yes, please," she said

He poured some in her mug and glanced up at the TV screen, wondering why she was watching a soap opera at a time like this.

She drained the tea and set the mug down on the coffee table.

"Emmerdale?" He asked incredulously.

She gave him a small smile, "Guilty."

Biting on her lip, she turned to him, "This is a bit much for a first date isn't it?"

He shrugged, "Not too bad all in all."

Clara nudged him with her shoulder, "What was the most terrifying part to you?"

"This soap opera."

She laughed, "Mine was the bow tie."

He raised his hands to his bow tie defensively, "Hey!"

"Or maybe it was the chin..."

"Now you're asking for it!"

She screamed in indignation as the Doctor noogied her.

Soon though, he stopped and she lay her head against his chest.

He pointed at the screen, "That Jasmine Thomas girl, she looks a bit like you don't you think?"

"Meh," Clara said simply, and the Doctor heard the tears in her voice before he felt them fall onto his shirt.

He looked down at her and tilted her chin up carefully.

"I'm so sorry, Clara."

"I know," she murmured looking at his lips.

Her eyes glimmered with unshed tears, and her hand reached up to cradle his cheek.

She ran her thumb the length of his jaw before reaching up and catching his bottom lip between both of her own. He responded as he usually did when a woman kissed him, by windmilling his arms, and not knowing what to do, but when he finally came to his senses, he responded earnestly, wrapping his hands around her waist and pulling her closer. Eyes half-lidded with desire, she brought her hands up to his neck, teasing the hair at the back of his neck with her fingers, and eliciting a tiny whimper from him. Her breath was sweet, with hardly any trace of the alcohol she had downed earlier, and it made him want her even more. He kissed back fervently, and felt her smile against him when his tongue lazily brushed against her lip. He only pulled away after he felt her hand squeezing his, alerting him to the fact that she needed to breathe.

He stared at her with wide eyes, taking in the flush of her nose, the color in her cheeks, and the swelling of her lips.

She giggled softly, looking up at him.

"I think you just did."

"But you kissed me!"

"Yes, and you blushed!"

The stared down each other for a few moments before the Doctor gave up and lied back on the couch.

Clara snuggled up to him, the fingers of her left hand entwined in his.

"I'm going to have lots of explaining to do tomorrow night when the kids and their father come back..."

"I'll be here."

**A/N: The next chapter will (probably) pull the story to a close, and hopefully tie together all the lose ends. I've really enjoyed writing this story, and deeply appreciate any and all feedback guys give me :) _Please leave a review!_**


	7. Chapter 7

_Chapter 7 - A Proposal_

The first meeting between the Doctor and Thomas Latimer was an uncomfortable affair.

At least it felt that way for Clara.

The Doctor was perfectly polite and cheerful, but Thomas was an entirely different story.

He was cold and indifferent whenever the Doctor spoke, and almost had to force a well-meaning goodbye when the Doctor declared that he needed to get back to his bookshop.

Clara had seen him out with the assurance that she would drop by later for tea, and waved as his blue van drove out of sight.

After that came what she liked to refer to as the awkwardest five minutes of her life.

She closed the door and turned to see the Captain's chest inches from her face.

He backed away at her startled expression, and instead gently took her hand and led her to the kitchen.

Unsure of what to expect, Clara was rather startled when he took her other hand in his and stepped closed.

"I'm very sorry, Clara, for what you and your _friend _had to endure last night. Rest assured the people who did this to our family will pay the price."

Clara nodded, trying to swallow the lump in her throat.

"I have," he began, stepping even closer to her, "A confession, to make Clara Oswald."

Clara tried not to cry out in shock when the Captain kneeled down before her, clasping her hand between both of his own.

_He can't be serious... He isn't.. Oh my stars he is..._

"You're beautiful, you're kind, you're fantastic with my children, and I love you," he said, his eyes glimmering.

"Thomas," Clara squeaked, blushing furiously.

The man took this as encouragement rather than a reason to stop.

"Marry me," he finished, "Be my wife. I beg you."

He encircled his arms around her waist and leaned his head against her stomach.

Clara stood frozen in place, her eyes wide and uncertain. The sudden urge to be sick was almost overwhelming.

"No," she choked, "No."

Her voice was like the crack of a whip in the silence, harsh and sudden.

"Thomas I can't, I don't love you," she said, gently pushing his shoulders and extracting herself from his embrace.

He jolted to his feet, looking hurt.

The Captain's eyes flitted through so many emotions that she wasn't sure whether he was going to slap her or kiss her.

In the end, he decided to kiss her.

He crashed his lips roughly against hers, pushing her against the counter, and making her eyes water in pain.

Clara squirmed under his grip but for all her efforts she couldn't break free.

His breath was hot and frightening, and his hands much too tight on her body.

He pulled away for a millisecond allowing her to stutter his name, before kissing her again.

When he finally pulled away for good, her legs were so wobbly that they almost gave out under her, and she had to clutch the counter to keep herself upright.

Her hand raised and without quite realizing what she was doing, she gave him a hard slap across the face.

The blow brought a shout to his lips.

"I don't love you," she repeated loudly, crossing her arms over her chest and wincing when her elbow brushed against the spot where he'd been holding her down.

Vaguely, she thought about how that would for sure be a nasty bruise later on.

"I'm certain you don't love me either Captain Latimer. The only reason you _think _you love me is because I look so much like her. So much like Evelyn."

The Captain staggered away from her, his hand clutching at his stinging cheek.

Clara continued, gaining confidence now that he wasn't looming over her,"But I am not my sister, Captain. I cannot love a man who is chasing after a ghost. And I cannot love a man who I've begun to see as a brother."

The Captain grimaced, "Clara..."

She stopped him, "Enough, please. I don't want to have to hurt you anymore. I've made myself clear, and I have no wish to be anything more than your friend. Do you understand?"

He nodded stiffly, "I understand, and I apologize for my behavior. It was inappropriate."

"It was," she said softly, "Now if you will you excuse me."

Without waiting to hear his answer, Clara dashed from the kitchen, elated at being free from the burden of her sister's widower.

**A/N: Sorry for the short chapter and the lack of Doctor, but it had to be done. When I wrote the last author's note, I wasn't aware of how much I wanted to cover, so there will be ****_at least_**** another chapter AND an epilogue (which is really cute, I'm squealing because... Well you'll see) I love all your reviews, they are extremely nice and encouraging, and asdfghjkkfddei; Keep them coming!  
The next chapter should be up soon :)  
Thank you!**


	8. Chapter 8

_Chapter 8- Rose _

Clara walked into the bookshop only to see the Doctor fast asleep on the main counter.

"He's been like this since he came back from your place," Jenny whispered, appearing from behind a shelf.

Jenny gave the shorter woman a knowing look accompanied by a wry grin which Clara pretended not to see.

Vastra emerged after Jenny, her usually prim hair ruffled, and her make up smudged.

"Is that lipstick," Clara asked, peering at Vastra's face with innocent curiosity.

The couple went red, and Clara grinned triumphantly.

"No, no, of course not," Vastra said, nervously rubbing at her face.

Clara chuckled good-naturedly, and before long the two other women cracked meek smiles.

The Doctor stirred in his sleep, mumbling a few incoherent words before turning on his side and becoming peaceful once more.

Clara's eyes flicked to him, and a soft expression came over her face.

"Whatever happened last night really wore him out," Jenny said, exchanging a glance with Vastra.

"Wore me out too," Clara muttered before she could stop herself.

She closed her eyes at Vastra and Jenny's collective gasp, "Not...not like that. It's just a very complicated story that involves alcohol, a gun, and a marriage proposal."

Clara grimaced, "I'm not helping my cause am I?"

Both of the other women shook their heads, grinning slyly.

"I don't know what to do," Clara moaned, collapsing into a chair.

"Miss Clara," Jenny asked, realising that Clara's distress wasn't induced by their teasing, "The Doctor hasn't proposed to you has he? It's only been one date!"

Clara shook her head.

"Then what is it," Vastra asked, sitting in a chair next to her.

Clara's shoulders sagged, "I've decided to resign from my job as a nanny, but I'm afraid to hurt my charges and their father by doing so."

"But why," Jenny asked, "Aren't ya happy?"

Clara shook her head, "No, I'm not, but I thought that they needed me because nobody else had stepped up to take the job. I suppose now I was wrong. It was only because the man fancied me."

Jenny placed a hand on her shoulder, clearly not understanding, but wanting to offer support anyways.

They all jumped when a loud thump resounded through the otherwise quiet shop, followed by a groan.

"Floors are not cool!"

Vastra and Jenny immediately left Clara's side to hoist the Doctor onto his feet.

"Tell me Jenny, does the taste of a Jack Daniels linger in your mouth for hours and hours and..."

The Doctor caught sight of Clara and stopped mid-sentence, his mouth open.

He took in her cheerless disposition with the concern of a young child, walking over to her and kneeling beside her chair.

"Hello."

"Hello," she said, grinning half-heartedly.

"You alright?"

She shrugged, "I've been better."

"But its Christmas Eve," the Doctor said, pouting, "You can't be miserable today."

Clara started, for she'd forgotten the day amidst everything that had happened to her.

"Oh no...oh no... No, no, no, no, no!"

"What is it?"

She looked at her watch.

"I missed the three o'clock train, I completely forgot that I'm supposed to be in Blackpool tonight to celebrate Christmas with my father and his new girlfriend," she breathed, "Oh shoot, shoot, shoot."

The Doctor looked at his watch, "It's almost four. Don't you have a car?"

Her head dropped into her hands, "No, I sent it to get repaired a couple days ago."

The Doctor sighed, "I would drive you in the TARDIS but when I got home after leaving your place, I discovered that two of the tires had been slashed, probably by that Simeon guy. Its a miracle I made it back in one piece!"

His expression was regretful, "I'm so sorry Clara."

Vastra looked up from her hands and to Jenny who nodded softly.

"Take her in my car," Vastra said to the Doctor, "Everybody deserves to spend the holidays with the ones they love."

The Doctor frowned, "Weren't you and Jenny going to visit family on the other side of London tonight?"

Vastra waved away his concern, "Strax will take us, it is of no matter. Miss Clara needs the vehicle more than I do."

"Thank you," Clara said, her eyes watering as she stood up and pulled both women into a friendly embrace.

Vastra pulled away first, reaching into her pocket and pulling out a set of car keys and tossing them to the Doctor.

"You two better get going. Blackpool is almost five hours away from here, and it'll get dark if you don't leave soon."

* * *

The Doctor and Clara decided to take turns driving, with Clara driving the first three hours and the Doctor driving the final two.

At three hours in they stopped at a petrol station to refill Vastra's car and switch places.

The Doctor darted inside the station to get some coffee and biscuits for the rest of the drive while Clara was left at the pump.

Flakes of snow fell lazily from the gray sky, adding to the already strong sense of Christmas in the air.

She let the last of the petroleum drip into the tank before closing lid and hopping into the passenger seat.

At a little past seven in the afternoon, the sun had already sunk, plunging the world into various shades of gray and dark blue.

The Doctor returned with a brand new TARDIS blue beanie on his head, and various sundries from the shop in a plastic bag.

He placed two coffees in the cup holders, and put the bag with the rest of his purchases on the floor.

"Doctor, what is that," she asked, pointing to to his new piece of headwear.

He pointed at the beanie with a wide grin,"It's cool isn't it? I got you one too!"

Before Clara could protest, the Doctor had reached into the plastic bag and was pulling a yellow beanie over her head.

"Hmph," Clara said.

The Doctor grinned, "You look good."

She raised an eyebrow, and he began to stutter.

"The beanie makes you look good," he blurted out.

Her other eyebrow joined in, and her mouth opened slightly.

"Better," he squeaked, "It makes you look better than you already look because you're already very pretty!"

She nodded, "Whatever you say chin boy."

"It's not that big," he said, sulkily turning on the car.

She laughed, the sound warming his heart, "Who ever said your chin was a bad thing?"

* * *

Soon, they found themselves on the M4, and after half an hour of driving the Doctor flicked on cruise control, knowing it would be a good while before the next turn.

"So Doctor who exactly," Clara asked, shifting in her seat so that she was facing him.

It was a good feeling, the Doctor realized, when people asked him that question. It was knowing something not many others did, like how to assemble a quadricycle, or how to tie a bow tie. But there was _nothing_ more satisfying than knowing that he had control over his name.

"It's John," he said, "John Smith."

Clara's smile faltered, "How on earth did you get 'the Doctor' from that?"

The Doctor let out a puff of air from his cheeks, "Dunno. I think it was probably because I wanted to be a Doctor when I was a wee little kid, and the nickname stuck. That and the fact that John Smith is terribly dull and boring, blegh. I hate boring. It's so... Boring. Quite a frustrating sensation. I didn't become a Doctor, but I did get a degree in anthropology. Never got a job in the field though. Not after... Stuff."

It was dark by now, so he couldn't see her expression, but when they passed beneath a streetlight he caught a flash of a faraway look in her eyes.

"Stuff...," she repeated, almost dazedly, "Doctor can I ask you something?"

"You just did," he said, chuckling.

"Another something," she said, her voice oddly quiet.

"Ask away."

"The day I fell into the pond, the day you helped me home, you said that you didn't want another death on your conscience... What did you mean?"

In his peripheral vision, he saw her looking at him expectantly, her face illuminated by the bluish glow of the dashboard clock.

"There are some losses that people never recover from. The loss of a loved one is a terrible thing to go through no matter the circumstances. And I've lost about eighty percent of my loved ones in different ways; my mum left me, my dad died, my brother could care less, Donna Noble dropped contact after getting married, River Song left a note and zoomed off to Africa, and Amy Pond and Rory Williams moved to New York..."

"Rory Williams?"

"Yeah," he said gruffly, clearing his throat.

She smiled, "I dated him in high school. He was the sweetest boy I ever met. The break up was mutual. I wanted to be single for a while, he was in love with his best friend Amelia Pond, it just wasn't meant to be."

"They got married and had a kid," the Doctor said informatively.

"Good for them."

"Yeah..."

He paused to sneak a glance at her, his heart beating erratically as he prepared to part with one of his most torturous memories.

"It's a bit different when the person who dies is the person you thought you were going to spend the rest of your life with. When they die you find some small, inane detail and you warp it so that somehow it is _your_ fault because you can't stand the idea that it was _their_ fault. You think... Well maybe if I hadn't kissed her for so long before she left for the holidays then she might have not been in such a hurry to cross the street at the airport an hour later and then maybe she might've been more careful about looking both ways, and maybe, just maybe she wouldn't have gotten hit by that cab."

He was speaking fast now, unable to stop after holding it in so long, "And maybe, she would still be here. As your wife or as your girlfriend of even just as your friend, but she would be here."

Clara spoke now, her voice hoarse, "Or if you had just been smart enough to know that people out there wanted a few stupid documents from your brother-in-law, and that if you had brought them up to him then maybe, just maybe the two people you loved most wouldn't have been murdured?"

Her eyes were brimming with tears, "And maybe, you'd have just _one_ job right now, with summers off to travel, and a mum and a sister..."

He sighed, turning off the cruise control and exiting the motorway.

He parked at a little string of shops and let the engine die.

A silence came between them, with Clara firmly turned away from him, her body shaking with quiet sobs.

"Your friend," she gasped out, "Her name was Rose Tyler wasn't it?"

The Doctor's head snapped in her direction, "How did you know that?"

Clara's shoulders shook even more, "Oh...god..."

In the darkness he grappled for her hand, squeezing it, "Clara?"

"I was there," she whispered, "I was in the cab, I told him to stop but it was too late."

The Doctor took off his seatbelt, reaching his hand out to find her cheek.

Slowly, he leaned forward and kissed her.

She tasted of salt and coffee, and _Clara_.

Her tears continued to fall as they kissed, mingling with his own even as he pulled her onto his lap.

The cried and they kissed until the tears stopped coming and Clara's head rested against his chest.

"I'm sorry, Clara" he said, stroking her hair.

"I'm sorry, Doctor."

"There was really nothing either of us could do, was there?" she asked.

"No, I don't supposed there was," he said, running his hand comfortingly up and down her arm.

The rest of the drive was spent in silence, until at last the Doctor pulled into the driveway of Dave Oswald's house.

They stood before the closed door, Clara with two wrapped parcels in her arms, the Doctor with his hands shoved deep into his pockets.

"Ready Doctor?"

"Yes! Maybe! No! Oh, I don't know!" He responded, evidently on edge.

"Yes it is then."

Reaching forward, she rung the doorbell.

The Doctor couldn't help but to be nervous.

_I'm about to meet her dad..._

**A/N: This was a rather long chapter by my standards, but I didn't know how to shorten it! *shrugs* Oh well. Next chapter should be up soon! ****_Please_**** leave a review, and thank you for reading! :)**

**I also have a question for you all: If Clara and the Doctor (John Smith) ****_were_**** to have a baby what would be your preferred gender? **


	9. Chapter 9

_Chapter 9- No I Am Not Carrying Your Grandchild_

"One..."

Clara closed her eyes tightly, suddenly afraid.

"Two..."

The Doctor grinned, his anticipation overriding his fear.

"Three!"

They both tugged on their ends of the Christmas cracker, and were greeted with a loud _pop_.

Clara laughed in delight as sweets toppled out of her part of the cracker.

"I never fail to be scared of that stupid sound," she muttered, plucking a peppermint from her lap and tossing it into her mouth.

On the other side of the kitchen table, a similar pop was heard followed by the deep chuckle of Dave Oswald and the light laugh of his girlfriend, Molly.

Molly Bennett was a thin woman of forty-one, smaller in stature than even Clara, and possessing enough kindness in her heart to make the Doctor feel comfortable around her in spite of their lack of prior acquaintance.

Dave was clearly a great father to Clara, but lacked the gentleness of his girlfriend. The Doctor recalled their first encounter at the front door as an alarming experience.

_The door swung open, and the Doctor tensed as a man with short greying hair stepped out onto the front step._

_The man (whom the Doctor assumed was Clara's father) gave him a long hard stare, taking in his nervous appearance, and pausing for a brief moment at his maroon coloured bow tie._

_Clara felt extremely tense, not just because she had brought a guest without asking first, but because her father had a tendency to be overprotective around her boyfriends._

_Dave took his eyes off of the Doctor, and then to his daughter, who guessed that she must have been as pale as a sheet for him to come to the following conclusion._

_Dave turned on the Doctor, "You've gotten her pregnant haven't you?"_

_Clara dropped the parcels, her mind going numb._

_She looked at the Doctor, disbelief etched on her face._

_Unable to make her voice work, her eyes begged for him to deny the accusation for her._

_Clara found her voice, "Dad! No, I'm not... Definitely not pregnant. No! Why would you think that?"_

_The man shrugged helplessly, "You two had worried faces on. I just assumed..."_

_Clara exhaled, "Well I'm not carrying your grandchild, but I **would** like to introduce you to someone. Dad, this is the Doctor. He's a friend of mine from London, and he owns a bookshop there."_

_"Doctor who," the man asked._

_Clara and the Doctor exchanged nervous grins._

_"John Smith, sir."_

_Clara picked up the now snow dusted parcels from the ground, and walked inside the house at her father's allowance._

_The Doctor followed like an obedient puppy._

_"Do I **look** pregnant?" she asked the Doctor, her voice a murmur._

_He shook his head fiercely._

_Clara sighed heavily, "Lets agree never to mention this to anyone ever."_

_The Doctor agreed. Lord knew what this information would be in the hands of Vastra and Jenny. He shuddered at the thought._

The Doctor shook himself out of the memory.

"More turkey, Doctor?" Molly asked.

"I'm full, but thank you," he replied, patting his stomach.

Molly laughed, "You Clara?"

Clara shook her head, "Oh no thanks! It was lovely though, I'm sorry you two had to wait for me so long. It was stupid of me to miss the train. It's only thanks to the Doctor that I got here at all."

The Doctor frowned, "It wasn't stupid of you! Not after that man with the gun..."

He trailed off, realizing his mistake.

The Doctor looked at Clara with wide apologetic eyes.

Dave lowered his cup of wine and Molly appeared confused.

"Gun?"

It wasn't that the whole incident with the gun hadn't shaken Clara, it had, but the fact that the last three years of her life had been spent believing that her sister and mother had been killed by accident rather than on purpose was more traumatizing than any firearm being pressed against her spine. And then there was the whole marriage proposal incident with Thomas...

She took a shaky breath before declaring that she would tell Dave everything in private, leaving the Doctor alone with Molly to clear up the table.

The tiny woman asked Doctor about his shop, and the Doctor tried his best to respond enthusiastically but his mind was on the muffled voices outside on the porch.

When the kitchen work was done, the Doctor walked out onto the porch.

He half opened his mouth to tell Clara and Dave that Molly had made a banoffee pie, but the sight of Clara and her father with their arms tightly around each other made him pause.

He thought he heard the sounds of crying coming from the both of them.

Deciding that it wasn't appropriate to interrupt, he went back inside as quietly as possible, and told Molly that perhaps it would be best to wait on eating her delicious looking banoffee pie.

She gave him a look that said she understood, and the pie returned to the refrigerator.

* * *

Clara's mind floated in that place between sleep and consciousness. She was aware of things happening around her, like the sound of the Christmas movie being shut off, and the warm feeling of the Doctor's arm draped around her waist.

She didn't really understand how she'd ended up in this position.

One minute she was sitting on the couch next to the Doctor, watching 'The Polar Express' while Molly and her father watched from the kitchen, and the next minute her eyelids became too heavy for her to watch any longer.

Her eyes closed, and soon exhaustion overcame the Doctor as well.

She felt his steady breathing ruffle her hair and unconsciously scooted further up against him, wanting to feel warmer in the chilly house.

A thick blanket was placed over them, only to be ripped away a few seconds later.

Clara and the Doctor both shivered.

"Don't wake them up, Dave, they're fast asleep, and its not like they're doing anything," a voice whispered.

"But... Its... He's...They're sleeping together. She's my daughter, Molly! I don't expect you to understand."

"I understand, and yes they are sleeping together, but that's in the most innocent sense of the phrase. Just look at them."

There was a silence after that in which Clara was no longer aware of what was going on around her. Her guess that her father must have given in to Molly, for in the morning, the Doctor's body was still against hers, and a thick blanket covered them both.

Eyes still closed, Clara's lips parted into a smile.

**A/N: Short chapter, but I am currently suffering from writer's block, apologies! There are currently more votes for a ****_hypothetical_**** (okay obviously I have plans) baby girl than a baby boy, but a guest made a really good case for a boy so you never know... I might just go for a baby boy unless someone makes a good case for a baby girl. Thank you for reading!**


	10. Chapter 10

_Chapter 10- Brave heart, Clara_

"Goodbye, Miss Oswald!"

"Goodbye, Timmy!"

"Have a nice summer holiday, Miss Oswald."

"You too, Rebecca."

Clara stood at the door of her classroom, sending off the students with little hugs and gentle words until at last only one student remained.

A little girl sat at her desk, staring blankly at the chalkboard.

"Tegan? Aren't your parents waiting for you?"

The girl jumped at the sound of Clara's voice, clearly having been lost in her own little world.

"No ma'am, just an aunt."

She appeared to be on the brink of tears, and Clara wasn't one to just sit around and do nothing when children cried.

She motioned for Tegan to come over to the teacher's desk.

"What's the matter sweetheart?"

Usually, Tegan was full of chatter and sass but at the moment she just stood before Clara, looking down at her shoes.

Unexpectedly, the little girl burst into tears and threw her arms around Clara.

Without a moment's hesitation, the young teacher returned the hug, rubbing soothing circles on the girl's back until her wracking sobs subsided.

"I-I- don't want to-go," she said.

"Go where?"

Clara looked up at the sound of the Doctor's voice.

A bouquet of roses lay in his arms, deep red in colour to match that of the crimson that now bloomed in her cheeks.

It was their six month anniversary, and the Doctor had brought her roses. She longed to leap from the desk chair and full on snog him, but knowing that it would be inappropriate in the presence of a seven year old, she resisted.

He set the flowers down on her desk, his eyes inquiring on the situation.

Clara shrugged.

Cautiously, he got down on his knees and outstretched his hand to touch the young girl's shoulder.

"Hey," he said softly.

The girl buried herself further into Clara's chest, refusing to let his comforting gesture win her over.

"Tegan," Clara said, shaking the girl ever so slightly, "Tegan, would you please tell us what's wrong?"

The girl slowly pulled away from her teacher, wiping frustratedly at her eyes.

"I'm moving back to Australia with my aunt. And I don't want to! I like it here in London! My friends are all here, my favorite teacher is here!"

Eyes tightening, bottom lip trembling, Tegan let out an anguished wail. Sorrow radiated off of her in steady waves, emphasized by the tears slowly soaking through Clara's blouse.

Hating to see any child so distressed, Clara took the girl's small hand in hers.

The Doctor took the girl's other hand and offered a small smile, "What's your name?"

"Tegan Jovanka," she said, her voice barely a whisper,"You're Clara's boyfriend aren't you? You're the Doctor with no name?"

"Yes," he said, shyly looking at Clara through his eyelashes.

Clara felt a flutter in her stomach, a flutter of giddiness, a flutter of something so powerful and endearing that it made her heart beat twice as fast. His free hand softly trailed up and down Clara's arm, leaving goosebumps in its wake.

They held eye contact for a few seconds before the Doctor returned his attention to the little girl in Clara's lap, "Did you know that your teacher isn't really from London?"

Tegan looked to Clara, "Yes, because her voice is different from everyone else's."

"Clara is from a place called Blackpool. Do you know where that is?" He continued.

Tegan said she did.

"She had to leave behind the places and the people she loved in order to do her job. And look at all the things she's accomplished because she was so brave. She's a fantastic teacher, she was a great nanny, and she's an absolutely brilliant girlfriend. Just look at her! Tell me you haven't seen a greater beauty in all your life. I dare you!"

"Doctor," Clara muttered, smiling in spite of herself.

Tegan tilted her head to the side, "Is that true, Miss Oswald?"

Clara nodded, "The moving part yes... Not so sure about the last bit."

"Oh quit being modest," the Doctor exclaimed.

"Well it's better than thinking of myself as queen of the world now ain't it?!"

"I don't want to go," Tegan interrupted, once again hugging Clara as though she were a lifeline.

"Do you wanna know my advice?" The Doctor said, licking his lips.

The girl emerged slightly, the merest shift of her head to show that she was listening.

"I think that sometimes in life we have to do things that we really don't want to do. But it's the way we take these situations that counts. Clara has had to go through them, I've had to go through them, and you're going to have to go through them too. But you have to be brave."

Tegan slid off of Clara's lap and gave him a watery smile.

He playfully nudged her cheek, "Brave heart, Tegan."

After wishing them a good summer holiday, the girl left with her head held high and a new view on her move to Australia.

Clara lifted one of the roses from her desk and breathed in its fragrant aroma.

Her eyes slid shut without permission as the Doctor came up behind her and hugged her from the back. His arms wrapped around her waist, and his lips pressed a gentle kiss to the back of her ear. She exhaled shakily, and leaned back into him. His lips continued to linger on the sensitive spot, and slowly trailed a few more kisses down her neck, rendering her temporarily speechless.

"Roses eh, Doctor," she said nonchalantly, finally finding her voice.

The Doctor tensed, "You don't like them?"

Clara turned around and put her hands on his chest, "Oh no, I like them, they're a nice bonus to my real present."

The Doctor's eyes widened, and he went pale, "Real present?"

Clara placed a hand on his cheek affectionately, "You. You're my present, you daft man! I haven't seen you in two weeks! When I asked Jenny, she just said you were away on business. No details. No anything. While you were gone Strax called me boy _again_. Is that just something he picked up in the army, calling everyone boy? Or can he genuinely not tell the difference?"

"Everything will soon be revealed," the Doctor said enigmatically, giving her a quick bop on the nose, grabbing her hand and attempting to pull her out of the classroom.

"Hey!" she said, pulling her hand back, "What's your hurry? I've just got to get my things."

Impatiently, the Doctor located her red satchel and handed it to her before attempting to take her away again.

"I still need to get-What are you doin-Whoa!"

He picked her up in a fireman's carry, ignoring her protests until they reached the parking lot.

"Put me down! Oi! Put. Me. Down. Doctor?! Are you listening? Doctor, I'm not a doll! Put me down, now!"

He finally consented to her shouting, but darted out of reach when she tried to land a blow on his shoulder.

"Now Clara," he began, holding his hands out in front of him, "Please don't be mad about what I'm about to tell you."

"I'm already mad," Clara said vehemently.

"Well don't get madder."

He tugged gently on her hand, and they walked a few more paces before stopping in front of a black motorcycle-right in the space where Clara's car had last been parked.

"What," Clara asked blankly, "Is going on?"

The Doctor clapped his hands together, "Do you remember how before I left you told me that your car was messing up _yet again_?"

"Yeah...," Clara said, her wariness increasing exponentially.

"Oh don't worry about your pile of junk," he said, waving a hand at her evident worry.

"Oi," Clara warned, "That's the pile of junk that saw me through the university."

"I took the liberty of having it towed..."

"YOU WHAT?!"

"...to the mechanic's so that they could replace the parts that had been acting up."

A breath of relief escaped Clara.

She pointed at the motorcycle, "So what's this then?"

Seemingly out of nowhere he pulled out two vintage helmets along with a red pair of leather gloves.

"This is our ride home."

She nudged the bike with her foot, "This wasn't in the shed when I left the shop this morning."

He smiled, but said no words.

"All will soon be revealed?" Clara asked.

"Yes."

"But my roses," she said, looking back longingly at the school.

It wasn't that she was scared of motorcycles, she just didn't know if she trusted her Doctor with one.

He looked like a toddler who was being threatened with the removal of his toy, "Clara! There are places to see, people to meet, things to do. In the great scheme of things those roses are unimportant "

She crossed her arms, and the Doctor did the same. A staring contest ensued, won (surprisingly) by the Doctor.

"Get on the bike," he said, and finally Clara did.

* * *

"So where have you been," Clara asked, making her voice louder so that it could be heard over the sound of the wind.

"Patience, impossible girl," he responded.

Her arms tightened around his waist as he drove around a bus on Westminster Bridge. Traffic slowed, and then came to a standstill

Big Ben loomed ahead of them, the hour hand pointing to four, and the minute hand pointing to the one. She turned her head to the side and saw the murky water of the Thames glittering up at her. Soon, her attention was diverted by an old couple on the sidewalk. They hobbled on hand in hand, bright smiles on each of their faces.

Clara half-smiled; some love really was forever.

With a twist to the gas, the motorbike sped off across the bridge. She tried to keep the old couple in sight but soon they became no more than a tiny speck behind her.

They arrived at the bookshop just when Clara was getting used to the bike. Much as she would like to deny it, she had enjoyed the ride.

As usual, they were greeted cheerfully by the shop assistants, but the Doctor hardly heard them.

He pulled a protesting Clara up four flights of stairs until they were at the front door to the flat she'd begun to rent back in January.

"Did you know," he began, his voice betraying no hint to the loss of breath she was experiencing, "That this building came with a secret room when I bought it?"

Clara's ears perked at his statement.

"Secret room?"

"Yes. And in the corner of the secret room there is a secret hatch on the floor that reveals a secret staircase that leads to a secret entrance to the shop. And the way in," he said, running his hands along the wall.

His fingers found a catch, and when he pushed, a part of the wall swung inward.

"Is right here."

"Am I going to get answers if I go in there," Clara asked, looking skeptically into the darkness behind the wall.

"Brave heart, Clara."

Clara walked into the room after only half a second of hesitation, the darkness swallowing her body like a huge maw.

The Doctor followed with a look of nervousness gracing his handsome face.

** A/N: I apologize for last chapter (It really was terribly terrible ick.) ****_Please_**** leave me a comment or some constructive criticism, it would really be appreciated. Thank you! Next chapter should be up soon!**


	11. Chapter 11

_Chapter 11- Come Away With Me_

The dark room smelled of yellowing pages, cinnamon, and stories growing old; an entirely different smell from the newer "hot-off-the-press" books downstairs. Those smelled of new ink and modern dreams.

Neither smell was unpleasant, but this one made her feel nostalgic.

She felt the Doctor's hand, warm and dry, slip into her own.

"Ready," his disembodied voice asked her.

She tried to make out his face in the darkness but only found the vaguest outline of her boyfriend in the darkness.

Nevertheless, she said she was ready.

His hand left hers, and an old fear came alive in her chest. She knew she wasn't really alone, after all the Doctor was only a couple feet away, but the impenetrable darkness made her feel lost like that one time when she was a little girl.

There was the sound of a match being stricken, and then a little flame appeared in midair.

He lowered the match until the light glinted off of something silver: a candelabra.

"Still don't remember where the light switches are," he muttered embarrassedly, waving the lit candelabra around in front of him until his eyes caught sight of a little row of switches.

The steady hum of electricity echoed through the room and all at once the ceiling bulbs switched on, bathing the place in a yellowish light.

Her eyes took a couple seconds to adjust to the sudden change, but when they did she was met by the sight of the Doctor nervously running a hand through his hair.

The room was large, maybe twice the size of her old bedroom at the Latimers'. There was not much furniture in the room, save for the old desk built into the wall the Doctor was now leaning against, and a row of laden bookshelves at the end of the room.

The shelves weren't what caught her attention, however.

What captured her heart about the room was the large map of the world covering an entire wall.

Scattered on all seven continents were little colored push pins connected only by thick lines of permanent marker.

A single travel brochure was attached to the wall. On top of it was a yellow post-it-note.

It read: For Clara.

Upon further inspection she found that the travel brochure was for Venice.

She tore her eyes from the walls and then to the Doctor.

He'd moved away from his spot against the wall and now stood beside her.

"What's this," Clara asked.

"Hopefully, the next year and a half of our life if all goes well," the Doctor said, letting out a shaky breath, "From London to Paris, from Paris to Amsterdam, from Amsterdam to Berlin, from Berlin to Prague, from Prague to Vienna, and from Vienna to Venice. After that we would go to Rome, leave the TARDIS at the airport and fly to Barcelona..."

His eyes had taken a new shine to them. A shine of excitement and giddiness that Clara rarely ever saw in him.

His index finger trailed from Barcelona to Madrid and then across the Atlantic and to the famous New York in America. From there it moved to Washington, D.C., to Texas, and then to California.

Clara felt her heart thumping extremely hard in her chest as he moved on to Canada, to South America, and then to Asia.

She let out a tiny gasp and sank to the floor, her eyes wide and staring up at the huge map in front of her.

The Doctor was immediately at her side, "Clara? Are you alright?"

"Doctor what is all this," she asked again, "What are you asking me?"

He smiled weakly, "Its me asking you to come away with me... To see the world with me."

When she didn't respond, he hastily reworded himself, "Only if you want of course. Nobody can force you to do anything you don't want to do."

He touched her arm and that set off a sort of spark in Clara.

_She was getting the chance to travel the world with Doctor... He was asking her to go with him!_

"Yes."

He jumped to his feet, "Yes?!"

She nodded, also getting to her feet.

"Yes, I'll come away with you."

He leapt forward and enveloped her in a tight hug.

"There's just a bit more...," he said.

"More," Clara asked, pulling away.

From the inside of his jacket he withdrew a small blue box.

Clara's breath caught in her throat as he knelt down on one knee. One of his hands rested lightly on the curve of her waist while the other outstretched the box to her.

"I really love you, Clara Oswald" he said shyly, "You with your shortness, your nose, your feistiness, and your sass. I would be a fool not to love you."

Clara was having some difficulty controlling her facial expressions.  
Lord, what were her eyebrows doing?! Trying to disappear into her hairline?! Agh.

His smile became wider, "Clara Oswald, will you please do me the honor of becoming my wife?"

She nodded shakily, finding it difficult to think, much less make her mouth work enough to properly answer his question.

"Yes," she finally croaked.

Pulling the ring from its casing, the Doctor slid it onto the ring finger of her left hand.

He stood up and Clara launched herself onto him, wrapping her legs around his waist.

"I love you," she said into his ear.

"I love you too," he said, planting a kiss on her cheek, and slowly pecking his way to her lips where she eagerly reciprocated.

A familiar heat flooded her stomach as he moved away from her lips and to her neck.

She uttered a little moan at this, and she felt rather than heard his laugh. She pulled him further up against her, and in response he moved his lips back to hers.

After a while they pulled away from each other.

"Who's keen now," he asked, chest heaving.

Clara blushed and let go of him.

"You're the one who started it," she shot back.

Shrugging, he took her left hand in both of his own, and brought it up to kiss each of her fingers.

"Clara Oswald-Smith," she said, testing the feel of the name in her mouth.

"I like it," the Doctor said.

She held up her hand to take a closer look at her engagement ring. Three diamonds sparkled up at her, the larger one situated between the two smaller ones, all set in a simple but beautiful silver band that seemed to fit perfectly on her finger. How he knew her ring size, she had no idea.

"Wait a minute," she said abruptly.

The Doctor's smile faltered.

"You promised me answers about where you've been the last two weeks and I still haven't got any."

His smile returned, "Oh yeah that! If you must know, I was out planning all of this, getting legalities straightened out, that sort of thing! Quite dull really. I actually spent the greater part of that time stuck in boring offices. Today was spent setting up this map for you, so any compliments on its amazingness would be greatly appreciated."

Laughing, Clara trailed the lines he had drawn on the map with her index finger.

"It's wonderful, Doctor."

He mock bowed to an imaginary audience, "Thank you. Thank you. No photographs please."

She linked her arm in his, "How about we go tell the others the big news."

Nervously,the Doctor agreed.

"Via secret staircase?" He offered excitedly.

"Lead the way, Chin boy!"

At the end of that day, Clara noted that nothing quite beat telling the assistants and hearing Strax's colorful vocabulary when Jenny reacted by dropping a box of dictionaries right onto his toes.

Now all she had to do was tell her dad...

* * *

"Will everyone please stand," the reverend said, and the sound of people getting out of their chairs echoed through the building.

Marriage was a frightening prospect, Clara realized as she took her father's arm and started walking down the aisle.

It was like looking over the edge of a cliff and into a crashing sea. When she looked over the edge of this cliff, she thought of all the people who had faced the exact same cliff; they must have been terrified. She sure as hell was.

But she was also unbelievably happy. She saw her future husband standing in a crisp black suit complete with a black bow tie and suspenders, and she saw the person she loved most in all the world.

That handsome man from the bookshop, the one who let her in during the storm, the one who let her know that it wasn't her fault, the one she loved.

He was waiting for her, and because of this she was brave.

Two of her little cousins and none other than Melody Pond helped carry her wedding train.

In the audience she saw Molly Bennett watching her and her father walk down the aisle with a bright smile. The woman did not pretend to be her mother, nor did Clara encourage her to be, but Molly was a good woman, and in that moment Clara could ask for nothing more from her than her very presence.

Amy and Rory were there too, beaming at her and the Doctor as they finally came together and began reciting vows.

Hand shaking slightly, she slid a ring onto his finger.

He did the same to her, and then it was over.

The cheering of the crowd, Jenny and Vastra's congratulations from a couple feet away, the clapping, it all disappeared as the Doctor wrapped his arm around her waist, pulled her up against him, and brought his lips down on hers.

The clapping died down eventually, and at the reverend's pointed cough, they reluctantly broke apart.

The reverend closed his book, the wrinkles around his eyes crinkling as he smiled, "It is my greatest pleasure to introduce to you Mr. and Mrs. Smith."

**A/N: We are nearing the end... After this just one chapter, and then fingers-crossed that I will deliver a good epilogue. Thank you so much for reading this far! :) Keep reviewing!**


	12. Chapter 12

_Chapter 12- Too Much Ham_

Her toes dug into the cool sand of the beach, microscopic grains of the stuff getting beneath her red painted toenails.

She looked around at the half-empty beach, feeling a soft wind blow over her hot skin, and savoring the familiar smell of the sea.

A couple of young children, both no older than four, ran past her and into the clear water, splashing, and letting out peals of delighted laughter as they jumped wave after wave after wave.

Behind rounded sunglasses, Clara's eyes softened. Her lips parted into a wide grin as the younger child, a little boy, ran away from his big sister, shouting wildly in the language of young children.

The boy apparently had no difficulty interacting with strangers, for at once he hid behind Clara's legs.

His older sister looked warily up at Clara who stepped aside, but the little boy just clung onto her legs, too terrified to emerge.

The children's mother quickly came to her aid, and while Clara's Spanish was rusty, she was able to make out an honest apology from the young woman.

She watched the woman take her two children by the hands and insist that it was time for a 'siesta.'

"Come in, Clara," she heard from the water, "It's nice!"

The tide rolled in, and pleasantly cool water lapped over Clara's feet. She wanted to stay dry, but the sensation was so nice that she didn't step back.

"I'd prefer not to walk into a our apartment dripping wet, thank you very much," she said.

The Doctor pouted, "You're such a party pooper! Are you not having fun?"

Splashing sounds indicated that he was getting out of the water.

Rolling her eyes, Clara addressed her husband, "Of course I'm having fun you oaf! We're in one of the most beautiful cities in the world! I'm just a bit tired today that's all."

"Tired?"

She shot him a pointed glance, "I haven't been getting much sleep now have I?"

His mouth formed a perfect 'o', and all at once his face flushed a brilliant red color.

"It's our last day in Barcelona," he said, recovering from his flustered state, "You can't just not swim!"

Clara humphed, crossing her arms and stepping away from the shore.

A mischievous sheen slid over the Doctor's green eyes.

"Doctor...," Clara asked suspiciously.

There was a moment where he tensed, and that was when Clara knew that she would be entering the apartment complex sodden to the point of dripping over the polished floors.

He leapt out of the water, his laugh, normally a melody to her ears, was now the sound of her staying dry campaign's pitfall.

His arms wrapped around her waist and suddenly she was in the water.

Sundress soaked through, she found herself cursing his name and hitting him on the chest.

"Doctor!"

"Clara!" He mimicked, his tone of voice matching hers perfectly.

She crossed her arms but eventually gave in. They swam and splashed for a couple of hours before crawling exhaustedly onto the shore.

The sun was beginning to set on Barcelona, and there wasn't any place Clara would rather be.

The Doctor lied down, still laughing, and Clara tucked herself into his side.

He pressed a lingering kiss into her curling hair, and a contented sigh blew from Clara's lips.

The sky was a gorgeous mixture of orange and pink melding into the darker colors of the night. The higher Clara looked the darker it got.

It was the same sky she saw in London, but for all she knew, they could be on a different planet. The world here was so different from the world there. The stars here were different from the ones in England. And they had been different in every place she had visited since getting married to the Doctor.

He sat up.

"Time to finish that packing we began earlier," she asked.

He shrugged helplessly, "We'll miss our flight."

As Clara brushed the sand off of herself, her fingers paused briefly as they flitted across her abdomen.

For a moment it felt...

"You okay," the Doctor asked, shaking the sand from his flip flops.

"Yeah," she said, blinking her eyes rapidly, "I'm just tired. Let's go."

That night they ate a simple dinner of ham sandwiches with avocado.

Afterward, they finished packing up their home of one month and loaded all their bags onto a luggage cart.

"That is a lot of luggage," Clara commented.

"Agreed," the Doctor said, warily looking at the cart.

"I'm going to have to push it myself aren't I," he asked.

"Yep."

"Naturally."

* * *

They left Barcelona at seven thirty, and landed in New York City at ten thirty. A nine hour flight in which only three hours passed.

Clara had never experienced jet lag before, but now it hit her hard. The flight had been long, and her stomach had not stopped churning since they hit some turbulence midway over the Atlantic.

While she'd combatted nausea, the Doctor had Skype' d with Jenny who had given him a status report on the state of the shop. With them gone the Doctor had decided to temporarily leave Jenny and Vastra in charge seeing as they loved the place so much. This decision had been greeted with much enthusiasm on the part of the two women, and since then business was flourishing.

A worn, but happy Doctor and Clara rode a cab to the Ponds' home, and fell asleep the moment their heads hit the pillows of the guest room.

A sing song voice woke Clara up the next morning, "Rise and shine. It's past noon, and your husband and my husband have left the house to pick up a pizza from the city."

Clara lifted her head from the pillow, "Amy?"

"Uh huh. Now get up. Get dressed. Melody is having a play date in the backyard with some friends from school and I need some help down in the kitchen with dessert. I hear you make a mean soufflé."

Clara sat up and immediately felt a rush of nausea.

Her hand rose to her mouth, and she closed her eyes tightly.

When the spell passed, she saw Amy watching her with a thin smile.

"Ah," the redhead said, walking over to the bedroom door and slowly closing it.

Clara watched her apprehensively, "Ah? What's that supposed to mean."

Amy raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms simultaneously.

"How long have you been feeling sick," Amy asked, some excitement sparking in those blue eyes of hers.

Clara shrugged, "A month and a half maybe, since we were in Rome, and it got worse in Spain . I think it was just the Spanish food. Too much ham. Not really my thing. I'm sick of the sick though. Argh."

She made a face, and Amy pressed on.

"Have you ever considered that it could be something else besides eating too much ham?"

Clara narrowed her eyes in confusion and Amy swatted her shoulder.

"Oi!"

Amy scoffed, "You're a clever girl, Clara! What else could this mysterious ham sickness be?"

Clara thought for a moment before a realization came over her.

"No..."

"Yes."

Her eyes widened and she began to shake. Amy reached out to lay a gentle hand on her shoulder, but Clara darted out of bed and into the adjoining bathroom.

Amy winced at the sound of her violently being sick.

In the bathroom, Clara leaned over the toilet basin, trembling, before summoning the strength to stand up and rinse her mouth.

The door slowly opened and Amy peeped in.

"That happened to me a lot when I was carrying Melody," she said softly.

Her voice sounded like it was coming from far away. All Clara could feel at that moment was numbness.

It was as though she had been skating over a thin layer of ice when a crack had suddenly appeared and the ice had given way beneath her. The water was freezing at first, enough to send her into shock, but eventually there was no sensation of the cold. There was only numbness.

Clara's fingers slowly rolled up the thin fabric of her t-shirt so that her tummy was exposed to the cold air of the bathroom.

She must've been close to three months along judging by the size of the tiny bump right below her belly button.

_Our wedding night..._

Amy's eyes widened, "You are!"

Clara's face cracked into a nervous grin. Tears fell freely from her eyes, leaving little tracks on her cheeks.

"How could I not have noticed before now," Clara whispered, images of a child traveling with her and the Doctor blossoming in her mind's eye.

Tears fell through her dark lashes and onto Amy's jumper as the taller woman stepped forward to give her a hug.

Behind closed eyelids, Clara saw her child growing inside of her. She saw the clenching and unclenching of tiny fists, she saw the saying of first words, the taking of first steps, the seeing of a first foreign city...

Downstairs, men's voices were heard.

"Clara!"

"Amy!"

Amy pulled away from Clara, "What are you going to do?"

Clara wiped at her eyes, shaking herself to regain composure, "Erm, can you call my husband up here."

Amy said she would and went downstairs.

When the Doctor walked into the room, Clara's hands had yet to stop trembling.

Luckily, the tears had stopped falling.

When she told him, the bulge in her stomach suddenly felt huge, blatantly obvious. A weakness in her walls.

His eyes were immediately drawn there, and for a moment neither of them said a word.

From downstairs, Amy and Rory heard a shout.

They shared a look before racing for the stairs where they both bickered about who got to run up the narrow staircase first.

As usual, Amy won.

She burst into the now dead silent guest room, Rory close at her heels only to see Clara deep in the Doctor's arms, smiling wider than humanely possible.

The Doctor tilted her chin up and captured her lips with his own.

Rory tugged on Amy's hand, gently trying to pull her out of the couple's private moment.

He would have succeeded too had Clara not opened her eyes and noticed them standing in the open doorway.

Lightly, she pushed the Doctor away.

"Oh hey guys!" The Doctor moved away excitedly, "Guess what?"

He was practically bouncing.

"What," Rory asked, while Amy met Clara's eyes knowingly.

Happiness did strange things to the Doctor. It made him a hyperactive twelve year old. Afraid, excited, nervous, and happy all at once.

He wrapped his arm around her waist, and looked to his best friends, "Clara's going to have a baby!"

Rory gaped for a moment before congratulating them.

He clapped the Doctor on the back and gave Clara a hug.

Squealing, Amy ran forward and threw her arms around the Doctor.

"That's so exciting!"

She pulled away, "But you with a baby?! That's a wee bit scary."

"Shut it, Pond!"

But as always, she didn't listen.

* * *

He loved her, he thought as Clara wriggled onto the bed next to him.

She loved him too, for her every movement, her every word, her every look, no matter how minor, screamed of her deep affection for him. It also didn't hurt that she said it out of the blue while the Doctor was reading to her that night.

"My memory is like a film. That is why I am really good at remembering things, like the conversations I have written down in this book, and what people were wearing, and what they smelled like, because my memory has a smelltrack which is like a soundtrack," he recited.

"I adore this book, Mr. Smith," she murmured, snuggling closer to him, "But I've read it before. Maybe another book from that Mary Poppins bag of yours. Maybe... Harry Potter?"

The Doctor grinned, "Haven't you read them before?"

She shook her head, "Not a single page. I 'aven't even seen the movies. Never was particularly interested."

"And you are now?"

"Strangely, yes."

He closed the book currently in his hands and shifted so that he was lying on his side with his face at the same level as hers.

"Maybe it's..."

"Doctor if you say it's the baby I'm going to sock you in the arm."

She wriggled until she was on her back, facing the ceiling.

"Are you happy," she asked, "About me being-"

She gestured to her small bump.

He smiled, "Course."

Clara sighed, "We're going to have to go back to London aren't we?"

His hand reached out tentatively, and she shivered when it came in contact with her tummy.

"I don't want to risk you getting ill in some foreign land, Clara. I cant lose you like that. In a couple months we'll go back to London. We'll work on the shop, and then you'll give birth to a baby just as clever, and just as beautiful as you..."

He rubbed his hand over the small bump and she closed her eyes, relishing the feel of his hand on her skin.

"I'm going to get so big," she said, chuckling as she looked down at herself.

"You are lovely now, and you are going be beautiful then," he said quietly.

When she didn't respond he leaned in and touched his lips against hers, holding them there for a few seconds before pulling away and pressing a kiss to her forehead.

"Thank you," she whispered.

The look in his eyes said all the words he didn't feel he could say to her and get out right.

It spoke of his gratitude to her for restoring his faith in real life, and it spoke of his love for her and their child.

He reached into the leather bag beside the bed and pulled out a first edition of the boy wizard's first adventure.

He read, and Clara reacted, interceding right when he wanted a reaction and even cursing when she heard of the abuse of Harry on the part of his aunt and uncle.

The Doctor might have loved his books before. The galaxies. The stars. The star systems. The planets. The foreign civilizations. There was simply so much to learn from the yellowing pages of an old book, but with Clara he had the chance to see so much more. To actually go out into the world and explore. To go on adventures he would never have gone on had he kept his head stuck in the dust and the smell of cinnamon.

With Clara he was happy. She was an adventure all on her own. And that was really all he needed.

**A/N: Thank you all for reading this story, I honestly didn't know what I was doing halfway through, but I got it sorted. You know I actually considered abandoning it because I was so frustrated with everything? (I didn't! YAY!) And now we're at the end and that's amazing because i had no idea it would be so well recieved. So ****_Please_**** leave a review to tell me your thoughts, and once again I appreciate all the support for this story and the epilogue should be up soon!**


	13. Epilogue

_Epilogue- Good Day, Bad Day, and the Big Day_

There were good days.

Like the one where Clara came home from the elementary school she taught at, lips parted into an impossibly wide smile.

As soon as she was through the door of the shop, she dropped her bags at a nearby table, walked around the counter and placed the Doctor's hands on her belly.

Kicks.

Like a goldfish swimming to and fro against the side of a plastic bag, or the light drumming of fingers against the palms of his hands.

"Neat, huh," she had asked, eyes shining, "He just won't stop!"

"He," the Doctor asked, hands gliding over her belly and around to her waist, pulling her in so that now the beats of their hyperactive child could be felt on his own body.

"Or she," Clara had said quickly, rising up on her tiptoes and pressing a chaste kiss to the corner of his mouth.

The fact that a blush still crept into his cheeks at gestures such as this made Clara giggle.

"Or she," the Doctor said into her hair.

"I'm happy with either one."

* * *

There were also bad days.

Like the day Jenny and Vastra came into the bookshop, clutching several Manila folders to their chests, and speaking of how their list of clients got bigger and bigger everyday. Strax followed behind them, also carrying files under one arm.

Clara asked what they were talking about, and the Doctor explained that working at the shop was just a side job for them; the two women were and always had been private investigators. Except no good luck had befallen them until they solved a large case involving a famous drug lord; since then, their phones had been ringing into the night.

That night, the two women knocked on the door to the Doctor and Clara's apartment, looking pensive even as Clara let them in.

"Because of all the clients we've been getting, Vastra and I have begun renting an office," Jenny said, the slightest quiver in her voice.

She looked directly at the Doctor, "And I don't think it's going to be possible to work here anymore... Not if we really want to do well..."

Though his words were congratulatory and understanding, their was a glint of sadness in those green eyes of his. One which made Clara's heart ache, and the baby restless.

After they left, a minor comment on Clara's part had led to him snapping at her. She had snapped back, and an argument had ensued. He'd locked himself in the bathroom, and it was hours before he emerged.

Even when he returned to bed that night, she had refused to talk to him, his hurtful words ringing in her ears, and singing her to sleep.

* * *

Though there were good days and bad days, there was only one thing the Doctor could think of on _that_ day.

Damn Lord Voldemort.

Had it not been enough to murder entire families because of a prejudice based on blood? Had it not been enough to be the most feared dark wizard in the world?

Apparently not, since his return in the fourth Harry Potter film had sent his wife into labour.

Yes. Really.

And now here they were at the hospital, thirteen hours later, and still no child.

It wasn't anybody's fault, not really, but oh how he wished she hadn't turned down the drugs.

A strong contraction rippled through her swollen belly, and the Doctor felt the joints in his hand pop as she squeezed.

He winced, but said nothing.

Clara inhaled sharply, tears filling her eyes when the pain refused to subside. She blinked and the tears mixed with the beads of sweat rolling down her forehead.

"I'm so sorry, Clara" he whispered, pushing one of her curls out from her face, "He'll be out soon, just... just keep trying."

She whimpered in response.

The nurse told her to push and she did. When told to stop, she slumped back onto the hospital bed, exhausted.

Their baby wasn't in the normal position to be born, and this more than anything made Clara's job of giving birth a hundred times more difficult.

"Doctor," she gasped, "Let's never have to do this again."

Her eyes squeezed shut, "God, this is not nice!"

The nurse told her to push again, so she did, letting out a loud shout in the process.

"_Ah_!"

A swell of relief came over her mind and body as cries filled the room.

"Boy," her doctor said.

Her head fell back onto the pillow, a happy but tired smile growing on her face.

"You did it," the Doctor said, voice cracking as one of the hospital staff handed her a tiny pink little boy wrapped in a light blue blanket.

"I did," she said, holding her baby close.

She traced the pad of her thumb over the curve of her child's forehead.

Tears leaked from her eyes, soaking through the thin fabric of her hospital gown and coalescing on the already damp skin beneath.

"My god he's so beautiful," she breathed, "I don't think I've ever seen anything so beautiful in my entire life. Oh god this isn't real. I'm going to wake up and it's going to all have been one terrific dream."

She half-sobbed, half-laughed, and leaned forward to press a soft kiss to his tiny forehead.

The child squirmed, uttering a short cry.

She shushed him gently, and much to her surprise he listened, instead opting to look up at her with wide, alert chocolate brown eyes.

The Doctor stood frozen, looking down at the adorable creature in his wife's arms.

"He's so tiny," he stuttered.

"Yeah well, he's a baby you see," Clara chuckled, her eyelids drooping with exhaustion.

"What should we name him," the Doctor asked.

"I was sure the baby was a girl, so I looked up those names, but I also found a name I really liked in case the baby was a boy: David."

"I like it," the Doctor said, "David. David Smith. It's a brilliant name!"

They went silent for a moment, watching as the Doctor outstretched his hand and the baby's fingers curled around his index finger.

"I love you," Clara said quietly to him.

He looked up from the baby to her, but he found that the exhaustion had finally pulled her under.

She had gone to sleep.

Taking David from her arms, he leaned forward and lay a gentle kiss on each of her closed eyelids, "I love you too."

**_The End_**

**A/N: I would like to thank every one of the people who reviewed, favorited, and followed this story. I still find it amazing how well received this story was (no flames!) Wow. I'm surprised that a month flew by writing this! What do I do now?! Ah well, thank you!**


End file.
